Knight of the Shadows
by PurpleVNeck
Summary: As the Dark Forest grows stronger, Sootclaw and Dawnpaw must learn to control their powers if they want to save their Clans. Meanwhile, new arrivals threaten to tear ThunderClan apart. Battles will be fought, blood will be shed, and darkness will reign.
1. Prologue

**A/N: **So first off, this is the sequel to my other story, _Pawn of the Stars_. I would highly recommend reading that fanfic first, just in the off chance that you actually feel like understanding this one :) It's not going to be the final one in the _Pawn_ sequence either, but that's news better saved for another day.

Again, I'm going for over 100k! Hopefully more like 150k, since we have forty chapters and a whole bunch of tedious author's notes to get through. And again, I'll need your support to do it!

Full summary:

Still struggling with the death of his father, Sootclaw is just settling into life as a warrior when one heartbeat changes everything. Overcome with loss and fear, he continues to fight for ShadowClan while learning to use his power in ways he never thought possible. Meanwhile, ThunderClan offers shelter to a group of loners, not knowing that their secretive past comes with dangers of its own. The evil in WindClan grows more powerful every day, and the only cat who can stop it is trapped in a world not her own, seemingly lost for good. The Dark Forest continues to wage its war on StarClan, and in the midst of it all, one cat will pay the ultimate price for redemption.

**PROLOGUE**

The two cats faced each other, their eyes gleaming with hatred. Their fur glittered with stars, their bodies silver and smoke-like. They looked much the same, though one was larger, and his eyes were a startling blue. The other carried a more dignified air, his amber eyes sharp with wisdom. Tension crackled through the air between them, sparks of an ancient enmity. It was cold where they stood, and though the earth around them looked plain, the grass between them marked the boundary between light and dark, between good and evil, between joy and despair.

"Your plan has failed," said the tom with the amber eyes. "We've stopped both of your pawns."

"Our pawns?" The tom with the blue eyes seemed amused. "More like yours, wouldn't you say? The boy stopped his father, that much is true, but you have given him a power beyond any imagining. Did you know what the consequences of your actions would be, Brambleclaw?"

Brambleclaw gritted his teeth and said nothing. The other tom continued. "For every action, there is a reaction. For every pawstep you take into their world, we can do the same. You must know this. Falconswoop and Branchclaw may be defeated, but you and I both know that this is not the end of the story. In fact, it is only the beginning."

"We will stop you again," Brambleclaw vowed. "The Dark Forest will never take over the Clans so long as StarClan is guarding them. You've tried so many times, Hawkfrost – and you've failed each and every one."

Hawkfrost purred. "Failed?" he said. "How have we failed? We've only come back stronger. You aren't guarding the Clans, Brambleclaw – you're destroying them. As long as StarClan exists, so does the Place of No Stars." Behind him stood trees tall as the sky, and as they reached the darkness above, they simply faded into it. Fog wreathed around his paws, thick and dark and deadly.

"Did Falconswoop know?" said Brambleclaw, challengingly. "Did he know you were using him?"

"Oh, Brambleclaw." Hawkfrost shook his head. "Yes, the darkness touched him, but it did not create him. It only fed on what he had already become – a monster, full of misery and hatred. It was not death that destroyed him; it was life. It would have benefited us greatly to see him create disorder among the Clans, but all of his actions were simply that...his own."

"But Branchclaw was of your doing," said Brambleclaw pointedly. "Why?"

Hawkfrost sneered. "Why not? He was planted to weaken the Clans and pave the way for others to follow."

"For others to follow..." Brambleclaw trailed off, narrowing his eyes. "You can't mean – what you're saying is impossible. No cat can return from the dead. Reincarnation is within our power, but to bring a cat back to the world from this place...it can't be done."

Hawkfrost merely flicked his tail. "The portal will be opened, Brambleclaw, and we will come."

"No," said Brambleclaw again. "You can't open it. You don't have the power to."

The brown tabby merely shrugged. "Maybe I don't. But who does? A young she-cat, left alone by her brother's death? An apprentice exiled for trying to protect his Clan? A tom who has lost both his mother and older brother?"

"What are you suggesting?" snapped Brambleclaw angrily. He thought he saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, but it was nothing. The spirits of StarClan were resting right now; none knew of his meeting, and none would bother him. Somehow in death, he had become more important than he had been in life. The others looked up to him; respected him. He was not only a guardian of ThunderClan, but a guardian of all the lake territories.

Hawkfrost ignored him. "What about this? Two brothers, separated by Clan, desperate for a father? One struggles with the guilt of wanting to betray his Clan for love. The other comes to terms with his new Clan, harsh and unfriendly. Where have we heard these stories before, brother?"

Brambleclaw flinched. "None of them will fall for your tricks. None of them will listen to you."

"They don't have to," said Hawkfrost, in a silky-smooth voice. "They just have to be weak. That's the difference between your place and mine. It's so easy to give in to what you want, so easy to seek power. It's hard to be good. Most of the time, it isn't even worth it. You've already seen that. You've given in to your heart, visited the boy, squandered your powers... You've _proven_ my point."

But Brambleclaw faced him stubbornly. He wasn't going to give in. He hadn't struggled in life just to lose in death. "I fought my whole life," he said. "I fought to be something more than my father, just as the boy has, and I prevailed. So will he."

"I tried that as well," mewed Hawkfrost mildly. "I wanted to be deputy. I would have made a good one, too. But they didn't trust me. I was always Tigerstar's son, just as you were. Then you killed me."

"I did what I had to do for my Clan," said Brambleclaw, narrowing his eyes. "Good will always win. StarClan defeated you the first time, and the next, and the one after that that – and we will do it again."

"It's different this time." Hawkfrost stared off into the distance, his pale blue eyes reflecting the darkness above them. Abruptly, he turned his gaze back to Brambleclaw. His eyes were filled with anger, with fury, with a horrible bitterness, and yet there was also intelligence in there, patience, humour. The tom sneered. "You made sure of that when you gave him that power. You gave _them_ the ability to do things no other cats can, though they haven't realized it yet. You've picked your champions, and we've picked ours."

It should have ended with Tigerstar's second death. They both knew that. StarClan had been so hopeful that there would finally be a real peace. But the Dark Forest was restless, and Brambleclaw knew the rules. By entangling themselves with the lives of the Clans, StarClan had given great opportunity to the Place of No Stars. Was there really no end to this? He thought he caught a glimmer of it, a hint of an idea, but it was gone as soon as it appeared.

Besides, it was unthinkable...

"I don't see your champions," said Brambleclaw bitterly. "WindClan might have turned, but they won't truly follow you, not once the darkness has lifted."

"I've already told you," Hawkfrost began, drawling his words as if he were talking to a kit. "Our champions are the same. Remember how the prophecy went? Before there is peace, blood will spill blood, and the lake will run red."

"That was us!" snapped Brambleclaw. He was growing frustrated with the conversation; frustrated and worried. Hawkfrost's words made sense, and they chilled him to his core. "It's already happened."

"On the contrary," said the blue-eyed tom, lip curling unpleasantly, "it has only just begun. Blood _has_ spilled blood. She killed her brother."

"And the lake?" Brambleclaw was almost afraid to hear the answer.

Hawkfrost smiled. "The lake will run red."

**X X X X X X X**

**A/N: **Short prologue, but trust me when I say that the length of the first chapter will all but make up for it. Anyway, what we have here is Brambleclaw and Hawkfrost, having a little talk. So we're back to canon characters for the moment, though this is actually more relevant than _Pawn_'s prologue. Way more relevant, actually. I'm sure you all know who they're talking about.

To all my faithful reviewers, welcome to _Knight of the Shadows_, which will hereby be referred to as KotS. To all my new ones, I hope you enjoy, and I bid you all a warm welcome. Apart from that, there isn't too much to say about this chapter. It's the herald of what will hopefully be a better story than _Pawn_. Right now, though, I'm just warming up.

Allegiances will be posted in a few days, and the first chapter will start with some new characters!

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	2. Allegiances

_"Now?"_ _she asked, impatient as always. _

_The darkness wreathed around her, caressing her, leaving lingering touches along her cheeks and flank. It was so thick, so humid, so sweet. No, it told her, in that voice that made her weak at the knees. Not yet. For now, we wait. No one must notice that anything is different. We keep the other Clans at bay, we make them think that everything is fine, and then we strike._

_It paused and she waited, desperate, for it to finish. But not now, it said._

_Willowstar looked up at the stars, her eyes narrowing into slits. They were too bright, too close, too scalding. She could feel them watching and she hated it. One day, there would be no stars. Then the night would truly come. "But soon?"_

_Soon, it promised, reaching out a tendril of dark smoke to stroke her slim face. Very, very soon._

**ALLEGIANCES**

.

**ThunderClan**

Leader: Slatestar – dark grey tabby tom with yellow eyes and a white underbelly

Deputy: Nettleclaw – large ginger and white tom with amber eyes

Medicine Cat: Kitetail – dark brown tabby tom

Warriors:

Grasscloud – slim tortoiseshell she-cat

Beechclaw – lean light brown tabby tom

Larchstripe – long-haired silver tabby she-cat  
><em>Apprentice: Galepaw<em>

Thickfur – broad-shouldered grey tabby tom  
><em>Apprentice: Dawnpaw<em>

Owlfeather – scrawny pale tom, tinged brown  
><em>Apprentice: Mousepaw<em>

Elmheart – handsome golden-brown tom

Apprentices:

Dawnpaw – pale ginger she-cat

Galepaw – long-haired white tom

Mousepaw – small brown and white she-cat

Queens:

Auburnfur – reddish-brown she-cat with green eyes_  
><em>

Cherrytail – ginger and white she-cat, green eyes_  
><em>

Elders:

Larkflight – white she-cat with grey spotting

Foxwhisker – once-handsome ginger tom

Snowfoot – large white tom, blind, former deputy

.

**WindClan**

Leader: Willowstar – soft grey she-cat

Deputy: Thornfur – handsome ginger tabby tom

Medicine Cat: Stormtail – dark grey tom with a long tail  
><em>Apprentice: Stripedpaw<em>

Warriors:

Swiftfang – large black tom with a white underbelly  
><em>Apprentice: Mudpaw<em>

Frostpool – beautiful white she-cat

Ashpoppy – long-legged silver tabby she-cat

Gorsetooth – light brown tom  
><em>Apprentice: Tansypaw<em>

Rootfur – dark brown tabby tom with white paws

Cloudstorm – slim white tom, yellow eyes

Apprentices:

Tansypaw – small ginger and white she-cat

Mudpaw – large brown tom with black splashes

Stripedpaw – light beige tabby tom

Queens:

Cedarpelt – thick-furred reddish-brown she-cat, green eyes_  
><em>

Mintpool – black and white she-cat

Elders:

Mottledfur – brown tom with darker spots

Icetail – elderly white she-cat

.

**RiverClan**

Leader: Toadstar – black tom with a brown underbelly and green eyes

Deputy: Reedthroat – handsome pale tabby tom

Medicine Cat: Patchnose – pale tabby tom with a pink and black nose

Warriors:

Whitestream – slender white she-cat  
><em>Apprentice: Fogpaw<em>

Troutleap – silver tabby she-cat

Morningstep – bright ginger she-cat with amber eyes

Oaktail – dark brown tabby tom  
><em>Apprentice: Rainpaw<em>

Goldenfur – long-furred golden she-cat

Hazelthorn – small brown and white tom

Apprentices:

Rainpaw – black tom with a white underbelly

Fogpaw – large grey tabby she-cat

Queens:

Lilystream – pretty grey she-cat

Tawnyfeather – tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat_  
><em>

Elders:

Swampclaw – broad-shouldered grey-brown tom

Gustheart – long-furred light grey tom

Crowtooth – irritable black she-cat

.

**ShadowClan**

Leader: Eaglestar – golden-brown tom with a tabby mask

Deputy:Redfur – white she-cat with ginger patches  
><em>Apprentice: Tanpaw<br>_

Medicine Cat: Birchcloud – light grey tom with darker flecks

Warriors:

Greywing – skinny grey tom  
><em>Apprentice: Nightpaw<em>

Milkyfur – white she-cat

Seedfur – tan she-cat with green eyes

Sootclaw – dark grey, almost black, tom  
><em>Apprentice: Pigeonpaw<em>

Flowerpelt – tortoiseshell she-cat

Apprentices:

Tanpaw – large tan tom

Pigeonpaw – spiky-furred grey and white tom

Nightpaw – black she-cat with amber eyes

Queens:

Sprucetail – dark brown she-cat_  
><em>

Elders:

Shadefur – old grey tom

Rockfang – black tom with white paws

.

**X X X X X X X**

**A/N:** Boom. Allegiances. Here they are. Obviously this isn't a very eventful chapter, but...you may notice a few differences. There's a new crop of apprentices in WindClan, one of whom will be very important. Not to mention Kite_tail_. Or Toad_star_. Sootclaw seems to have found himself an apprentice (Eaglestar's petulant son) and a certain she-cat has made her way into the nursery. All will be explained in due time.

I'm also going to make more of an attempt to include secondary characters, especially elders, who barely played a role in the last story at all. But as you all know me and my work ethic, that will probably fail.

Trying to find a good synonym for moist was probably the hardest thing I have ever done in my whole life. Humid is iffy, but it's better than soggy. Or dank. Or slimy. Anyway. The beginning was basically a recap of PotS's epilogue - WindClan will attack blah blah blah. There is a reason they haven't struck already (we've had about four moons of peace) and it will become apparent.

**ScourgexScarlet**: C'mon, where's your faith in me? :P

**The Last Clan:** I'm writing as if the stories stopped at Night Whispers. As for Hollyleaf, we'll see ;) Thanks so much for the great review! It's nice to know that you're so excited.

**Scribe of the Owls:** Thanks for the concrit! Haha, I get rebuked for not having enough "saids", and then for having too many of them. You can't please everyone, but I'll take everything you said into consideration :)

**iPinkNinja:** Thank you so much for the great review and compliment!

**Coqui's Song:** Hey, I promise the first chapter will be long enough to make up for it! :P More description is a good point though, I'll work on it!

**Juniperleaf of BlazeClan:** Haha, well, I'm glad I didn't cause you even more stress by taking longer to update. Anyway, thank you so, so much!

As I said, not an eventful update, but the first chapter will be quite eventful, so stay tuned! It should be up on Thursday :)

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	3. Chapter One

**CHAPTER ONE  
><strong>

Maybe, if prey had been more plentiful and sheets of glistening ice hadn't covered the streams and ponds of their territory, everything would have turned out differently. But as it was, RiverClan was short on food, and Fogpaw wasn't about to let this rabbit go.

She tracked it through a strand of frost-covered rushes, the snow crunching beneath her paws as she tried to pinpoint its location. It couldn't scent her – the wind was wrong and she was camouflaged behind reeds and barren shrubs – but it could definitely hear the crust of ice breaking with each of her steps, and so it kept bounding forward, hiding underneath whatever shelter it could find. Fogpaw knew she should just pounce, but she needed to be sure before she leapt. If she missed and the rabbit ran off, she would have no chance of recapturing it.

Leafbare had swept over the lands by the lake, trapping the Clans in its icy grasp. Though prey was scarce everywhere, the cold really took its toll on RiverClan. With the streams frozen and lake covered by treacherous membranes of ice, they were forced to rely solely on hunting instead of fishing. Fogpaw gritted her teeth. Whitestream had taught her how to hunt, how to stalk prey and chase after it, but all of that knowledge seemed to have escaped her mind.

The air was cold and dry; it seared her nose and cracked the skin of her pads, making her feel brittle and fleshless. Fogpaw had been born during the days of warmth, and while her parents had told her stories of the cold, she had never expected it to be like this. They would be expecting her back at camp any time now, and she couldn't disappoint them. Her father was deputy! It would do Reedthroat no good if the Clan thought his daughter was useless.

Rainpaw would make fun of her too. Fogpaw scowled. He wasn't the one out here trying to catch this rabbit. Oaktail had taken him out to patrol the ShadowClan border. They had been quiet since Falconswoop's betrayal, and she expected that nothing exciting would happen to her brother on his patrol. He might even catch something, which meant that she _had_ to bring this rabbit back to camp.

Whitestream had emphasized the need for prey. Though no cats in RiverClan had been afflicted by whitecough as of yet, the threat always lingered. Birdkit and Marshkit were young, and Lilystream was constantly hungry, her belly swollen with kits. Fogpaw was determined not to let any of them down.

The rabbit stopped, pink nose quivering, and sniffed the crisp air. Fogpaw halted, hiding behind a mess of tangled bracken. The ground was beginning to slope underneath her, and she realized that they were nearing WindClan territory. Clearly, the rabbit thought it would be safer in the shelter of the heather. Fogpaw crept closer, bunching her muscles. She wouldn't let it get that far.

The rabbit turned toward her. She saw its eyes widen, and then it froze. Fogpaw felt her heart leap into her throat. She hesitated for half a second, and then she pounced, throwing herself towards the animal with her claws extended. The she-cat could almost taste its warm juice in her mouth.

But the rabbit was faster.

It ran from her at breakneck speeding, hurtling over roots and rocks in its path. Fogpaw followed more clumsily. The rabbit seemed to know the ground underneath its paws, but she found herself growing more and more inept as she lunged after it. Stones kept appearing in her path, fallen branches cutting her off. Fogpaw skidded to a stop, breathing heavily. Her paws were slick with sweat, her long grey fur fluffed up around her. _Foxdung!_

She wasn't sure when it had disappeared, only that it was gone. Fear-scent hung in the air around her, along with another scent, something acrid that burned on her tongue. It was familiar. Fogpaw frowned. It wasn't...it _was_...WindClan. Panic struck her. They were invading!

Then, slowly, rational thinking swept through her mind. WindClan wasn't on her territory – she was on theirs. Fogpaw felt a shard of fear stab through her. She must have crossed the border in her desire to catch the rabbit. The she-cat twisted around. How would she get back? If she just walked straight from here, would she find herself back on RiverClan territory? But what if a WindClan patrol found her first? If they found her and told Toadstar that she had crossed the border, the leader would _kill_ her. Rainpaw would never let her live it down!

She was suddenly very uncomfortable. The ground was rough and unfamiliar, the limp strands of dead heather strangely foreboding. Around her, hills rose up, strange and monster-like. Beyond them, the sun was beginning to set. Fogpaw felt the fear stab through her again. She needed to go back.

Then another scent entered her mouth, dark and acrid and strangely compelling. Fogpaw frowned. As bad as WindClan smelled, they were nothing like this. It was horrible, and yet she found herself filled with a burning curiosity. Against her will, her paws began to follow it.

No. Fogpaw tried to pull away. It was nearing night, and her family would be waiting for her. Morningstep would begin to fret if she was away for too long. Reedthroat would pace and lash his tail as she had seen him do a million times before. It was his customary gesture whenever she found herself in trouble. This time, though, it wasn't her fault. _I didn't mean to break the rules!_

Toadstar would have to punish her. He had only been leader for two moons, and he needed to show the Clan that he could be a strong leader. He had been a good deputy – or so she had heard – but that meant nothing now. According to Reedthroat, who she had overheard talking to her mother, these next few moons would decide the new leader's legacy.

Rainpaw would rib her about it for the next moon if she was caught. Her brother was a stickler for the rules; he was like a miniature version of their father, though his fur was black instead of beige, and his eyes pale slate. Though they cared about each other – they were siblings, after all – he had no tolerance for her mischief. Fogpaw often told him to lighten up. He never listened.

She became aware that she was wandering deeper into WindClan territory. The sun vanished behind the crest of a hill, leaving only streaks of orange and purple to lighten the quickly-dimming sky. Fogpaw shivered. Even her long, puffy coat couldn't keep her warm at a time like this. She had been so proud of it during the first snow. I'll be warm all leafbare, she had boasted to Hazelpaw, I won't feel a thing. He was Hazelthorn now, though, and she was freezing.

Fogpaw wished that there were more apprentices in RiverClan. Right now it was only her and Rainpaw, though Tawnyfeather's kits would soon be of age. It made her lonely. When she had been a kit, there had been four apprentices: Lilypaw, Russetpaw, Goldenpaw, and Hazelpaw. Now Lilystream was a queen, Hazelthorn and Goldenfur were newly named, and Russetpaw...no one wanted to speak of Russetpaw. For awhile, there had even been that ShadowClan tom staying with them – _Sootclaw_, she thought. Fogpaw could recall tumbling over his paws without a care in the world.

The scent grew stronger as she followed it through the hills. Every fibre of her body told her that she shouldn't be doing this, that she should simply go back, but Fogpaw couldn't help herself. WindClan had been acting distant lately – though they still came to Gatherings, they seemed off, and their border markings were seldom fresh – and her naturally curiosity was getting the better of her. She wanted to know what could possibly smell this foul.

Maybe it would explain everything.

The scent became overpowering. Fogpaw came to a stop and looked around, suddenly engulfed in the heavy odour. There was a rustle in the gorse behind her and she whipped around, yellow eyes wide and neck fur fluffed. "Who's there?" she called out, forgetting that she was the trespasser. No true warrior would hurt an apprentice...right? WindClan had always been honourable cats. That was what her father said, and Reedthroat was always right.

"We should ask the same of you," growled a voice, deep and terrible to her ears. Fogpaw spun back around to see a large brown tom padding toward her. He was followed by a long-legged silver she-cat whose eyes were hard as flint.

"Knock her out," commanded the she-cat, voice cold and careless.

Something hard struck the back of Fogpaw's head. She let out a cry and collapsed to the ground. The she-cat was dimly aware of someone stepping over her. "We can't let her go now," said a voice, and then everything went black.

**x x x**

Chantelle woke to stiff joints and an ache in her bones. She roused herself and padded out from underneath the frosted ferns, shivers running through her lean body. _It's so cold_, she thought. She wasn't used to winters like this. Her body was too skinny for them, her black fur too sparse. It was always warmer in the city; out here, there were no buildings to hold back the howling wind.

Beside her, Beck let out a groan and began to stir. The huge golden tabby was sprawled out by a large, flat stone, pitiful shelter from the breeze. He turned over, obviously uncomfortable on the hard earth. Chantelle barely gave him a second glance before jumping to the top of the rock, scanning the white hills around them. There was no sign of danger, which was good, but there was no sign of prey, either. The she-cat opened her mouth to scent. Nothing.

"Looking for me?" It was Alder's voice. She turned to see the brown tom trotting toward her, a fresh vole clutched in his mouth, its fur spotted with snow. His amber eyes were warm as he dropped it in front of her.

"No," she said, though she was always looking for him, in a way. Chantelle jerked her head toward the vole. "Is that for me?"

He nodded. "You looked like you needed it. How did you sleep?"

She was slightly miffed that he thought he needed to look out for her, but it was Alder, so she didn't mind too much. "Alright," Chantelle said grudgingly. "It's different here."

Alder blinked sympathetically. "You didn't have to come."

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped. Alder wasn't taken aback; he was used to her by now. Feeling somewhat guilty, the she-cat softened. "Of course I did."

"I'm glad you did," he told her, and the words warmed her heart, though she would never let him see that. Chantelle sniffed and pulled the vole toward her, tearing into with her teeth. It felt heavy in her shrivelled stomach, but she devoured it anyway, trying to ignore the queasy feeling that resulted when she was done.

"I'm going to go back out," Alder mewed once she had finished. He was sitting on his haunches, tired and worn. His ribs were visible through his once-lustrous brown fur, and though his face was still as jovial and handsome as ever, it was obvious that their journey had taken its toll on him. "I need to find something else for Beck."

_I wish we could just go back to the city. _Chantelle sighed. "You should eat too," she urged him. "Look at how skinny you are. Beck can wait."

Alder shook his head. "It's a leader's duty to look out for his band first. You and Beck are more important to me than anything else."

The black loner sighed, acting like his words meant nothing to her, while inside her heart was soaring. "Alright," she mewed. "If you're anything, Alder, you're a leader. We'll be waiting here."

He nodded and then hesitated. "You haven't...you haven't seen any sign of them, have you?"

"Not for a long time now," said Chantelle. "Do you think that they're still after us?"

Alder's expression grew stormy. "You know Baron. Do you think he'll ever really quit?"

_No_, she thought, but she merely shrugged. "You never know. He might get tired of chasing us one day."

"He won't," said Alder stiffly. He roses to his paws, suddenly tense. "And he's not chasing you, he's chasing _me_. You and Beck have saved my life many times over now, but you don't understand... He'll never give up. If I ever go back...I can overthrow him, and he knows that. We have to go so far away that he will never find us."

"There are still dissenters," Chantelle pointed out. "You said it yourself. You can overthrow him. No matter what Baron says or does, you're the rightful leader. Your father..."

"Leave my father out of this," said Alder angrily. All the warmth had fled from his voice, all laughter from his eyes. "We're not going back. You know that. I told you that when you volunteered to come. So just...don't." He turned around and padded away from their makeshift camp, neck fur bristling.

"Alder, wait!" she called, but it was too late. He vanished over the rise of the hill and Chantelle was left to curse herself. It wasn't supposed to be this way. They weren't going to run forever; they were going to make a new life, the three of them together. She had already pictured her kits, brown and black, so happy and handsome. And when Baron was dead and gone, perhaps they could reclaim their rightful kingdom. _I won't forget_, she vowed. _No matter what happens, no matter what Alder says, I will not forget._

.

"Almost there!" called Beck from up ahead. He was marching at the front of their little procession, scouting ahead whenever the need arose. Alder walked in the middle, and Chantelle took up the rear, all of her senses alert. Danger could strike at any time, and Alder needed to be kept safe. She perked up when Beck yowled out. It seemed like they had been climbing this hill for ages, never quite reaching the top. But Beck seemed high up, and Chantelle allowed herself to hope that they would finally reach the rise.

The sun was higher in the sky now, though the air was just as cold as it had been in the morning. Snow crackled beneath her paws, and she found herself walking in Alder's steps. Earlier on in their journey, Beck's weight had broken the snow and he had fallen into what had very nearly been a deathtrap. Now they were extra careful – there was no telling just how deep the snow was on these hills. Chantelle shivered, and on every step, tested the crust before placing her weight on it.

Alder's mood had improved. He had somehow found food for both Beck and himself, and the two toms seemed more energetic than usual. The brown tabby's eyes were shining again, and Chantelle knew that they would stay that way as long as she refrained from mentioning Baron. The reddish-brown tom haunted her dreams, and she wondered just how bad Alder's nightmares got. _Confide in me_, she wanted to tell him. _Tell me everything_.

It was little under an hour until they reached the top of the hill. Beck stood triumphant at the crest, golden fur glowing in the sunlight. He was a handsome cat, with a muscular figure, but he had none of Alder's intelligence or humour. Chantelle liked him well enough, though she couldn't help the twinge of jealousy whenever she saw the two of them together. _You're not his friend,_ she wanted to scream at Beck sometimes. _You're supposed to be his guard_.

But that was another life. This was their new one. If only they could distance themselves from what they had been before, then everything would be perfect. But as it was, she was scared to look around every corner, always expecting to see Baron's face peeking out at her. _Going somewhere_, he would ask, and his voice was a leer in her head.

"There," said Beck, gesturing with his muzzle. Below them lay a glittering lake, sunlight reflecting off of its frozen surface. One half was surrounded by dense forest, while the other carried into rolling hills and flat marshes. Chantelle thought she could make out a cluster of Twoleg nests in the distance. "That's where we'll find them."

"It looks small," she said doubtfully, casting an anxious glance at Alder. He was studying the forest, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

"That's because it's far away," mewed Beck. "This is definitely the place that the Tribe cats told us about."

Chantelle could still hear their leader's words ringing in her mind. _We cannot shelter you in this time of the cold, nor can we risk bringing the wrath of these rogue cats upon us. But there are Clans of cats who live by the lake, through the mountains. They protect the weak. They will gladly help you_. But he had been old and weary, and she had found herself annoyed by his cowardice. Alder, being a diplomat, had merely accepted his words.

Alder nodded. "We need their help. Let's start heading down. There's no time to waste. Beck, will you lead the way?"

The huge tom grunted and began to pick his way down the slope toward the forest. Alder followed him, and Chantelle scurried to keep up with her leader. Her _prince_. "What will we tell them?" she asked, panting.

"We'll tell them that we're loners, that we lost our home to Twolegs," mewed Alder sadly. "We'll say that you gave birth to a litter of stillborns, and that you're mourning their loss. We need food and shelter, just for a little while, perhaps a moon or two. Then we'll move on."

"So we'll lie," she said softly.

Alder shot her a sharp glance. "I don't like it any more than you do. But do you think that they'll accept us if they know that we're being hunted? We're supposed to be their friends, cats they can trust, but...there's no other way, Chantelle. We just have to hope that Baron doesn't find us."

She wanted to tell him to fight so desperately that it hurt. She had agreed to run away with him because of the bond they shared; the two had been friends since kithood. She was nineteen moons now, to his twenty. Beck was older than both of them, a fighter by birth. He had been Alder's guard when the tom had been heir, and now he was his guard in exile. The three of them were an odd company, but it was all she had.

Instead, Chantelle held her tongue. "You know I'll always agree with you," she told Alder. The tabby's expression softened and he blinked warmly.

"Thanks," he mewed, before trotting forward to head their descent.

They walked like that for awhile, though the lake never seemed to get any closer. It was farther than it looked – not just one more hill, but two, three, maybe even four. Soon Chantelle was panting again, her stomach beginning to rumble. The sun began to disappear beyond the horizon. Alder noticed and called their march to a halt.

As they looked for a place to sleep for the night, Beck dropped back to pad beside her. "It'll never work," he said, voice soft but firm. Beck had never been one to mince words. Chantelle had always been intimidated by him, though he had always been her protector. She had spent so much time with Alder growing up that Beck had guarded her as well, always silent. Now he spoke to her, and Chantelle found herself still getting used to the equality forming between them.

"What won't work?" she asked. "Seeking shelter with the Clans?"

The golden tom shook his massive head. "You and Alder," he said in a low voice. "I know how you feel about him. What you want."

"I don't know what you mean," said Chantelle, but she did, and she went to sleep trying to forget his words.

**X X X X X X X**

**A/N: **So, first chapter of KotS! It showcases the beginning of two very important storylines throughout the fic - that of WindClan, and that of the rogues. The next chapter will return to Sootclaw, and we'll catch up with them. After that, we'll have our very first Thickfur POV!

That being said, this chapter introduces our two new female POVS: Fogpaw and Chantelle! I'm very happy with the way both of them are turning out. They're definitely very different, and hopefully a good contrast to Dawnpaw, and we'll see them develop as the story continues.

**allygirl56:** It's great that you're able to keep up with the story! I laughed at your reaction to Lilystream's pregnancy :)

**ScourgexScarlet:** Haha, just keep holding onto that faith then.

**The Last Clan:** Gasp, a positive reaction to Lilystream! :) Thanks for your review!

**Juniperleaf of BlazeClan:** Willowstar isn't so much a moron as she is brainwashed. The darkness has pretty much taken over her, so yeah, I would say feel sorry for her.

**Blackish:** I can PM you! I feel so powerful! This is the most convenient thing _ever_. That being said, I look forward to your comments on Fogpaw and Chantelle.

**bubbletail:** Awesome, haha, thanks for your review!

**frostfeather:** You'll see what has happened soon enough :) As for that mystery cat, don't worry, it's not something you know at the moment.

**Kartlin:** Two days? That's impressive, wow! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, and I hope KotS keeps you just as addicted :)

It seems like Lilystream's pregnancy is causing quite a stir... Next chapter, all your questions will be answered. Well, one of your questions will be, at least. Ahem. I don't have much to say about this chapter, and I don't want to give a lot away, so see you all next time.

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	4. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER TWO**

"But I don't want to give it to the elders," complained Pigeonpaw loudly. "I'm the one who _caught_ it!" The grey-and-white tom sulked as he looked down at the starling between his paws. Sootclaw felt his heart wrench; the creature was scrawny, barely enough to feed one cat, let alone two. He sighed, wishing the day could be over already. But the sun had barely reached the top of the sky, and there was still much to do.

"You'll bring it to them," he snapped, wondering if he had ever been as obnoxious as his petulant apprentice. There had been a time not too long ago when Sootclaw hadn't understood the meaning of providing for his Clan. Now it was as essential to him as breathing. He was a loyal warrior, or at least, that was what he told himself. _I'm not betraying my Clan. Not really. _"Now go."

_It won't be enough_. Dawnpaw's voice cut into his thoughts. She was right, of course. Prey had been scarce all leafbare, and all of the Clans were suffering. It was freezing in the ShadowClan camp, and Sootclaw watched as his breath misted in the air in front of him.

_It will have to do_, Sootclaw told her. _I'll catch more later_.

He felt her smile. _Once you're rid of him?_

Pigeonpaw had been his apprentice for all of three moons, and Sootclaw was already sick of him. As Eaglestar's son, Pigeonpaw was of the opinion that he was the cream of the crop, the finest ShadowClan cat to ever walk the earth. His siblings were far less obnoxious; Tanpaw was quiet and noble, Nightpaw rugged and adventurous. Why couldn't one of them have been his apprentice instead?

_Was I ever like him?_ Sootclaw asked.

As she laughed, her mind glowed with warmth and the connection between them lit up like a thousand stars. Sootclaw was left momentarily dazed. No matter how many times he felt it, it never ceased to amaze him. Dawnpaw took a deep breath. _You were worse._

_Don't chide me_, he told her as Pigeonpaw padded sullenly into the den. _When did you become so old?_ The past four moons had matured Dawnpaw, though she remained as naive as ever. Sootclaw had hardly felt himself growing older. He had simply sat down one day and realized that he was no longer a kit. Dawnpaw had become more confident in her abilities, less frightened, though he could tell Branchpaw's death still weighed heavily on her mind. She had pushed it into a dusty corner, where it sat in the darkness, hidden, but far from gone.

Branchpaw...Sootclaw had seen the tom ascend to StarClan. The events of that day were still fresh in his mind, from Falconswoop's fall to to the apprentice's death. Everything had happened so fast; it was only now, looking back, that he understood what had come to pass. The grey warrior wished Kitetail were here. His brother always knew what to do. But Kitetail was in ThunderClan now, as he had been for the past for moons. _I just found you_, Sootclaw remembered thinking. _Why did you have to __leave when we could have been so much?_

Loving his brother had only left him open to heartbreak, but Sootclaw didn't regret it in the least. He was stronger now, and though he was separated from tom by distance, they would always be blood. Still, love was a difficult beast. It had so many forms, so many demands, so many fingers gripping his heart. The only upside was that Flowerpelt had seemingly abandoned her feelings for him. She had matured into a great warrior, and Sootclaw felt nothing but respect for her.

_Me, old?_ Dawnpaw replied. _I'm not the one...well, you know._

Oh, Sootclaw knew. He fidgeted uncomfortably, though was saved from replying when Pigeonpaw came back out of the den, relieved of his starling. "I'm hungry," the tom complained, falling down to his haunches by Sootclaw's feet. "Can I eat now?"

Sootclaw shook his head. "Not right now. I was thinking we would do some battle training with Greywing and Nightpaw first."

"Battle training?" A large black head popped out of the nursery nearby. Nightpaw grinned at them excitedly. "Oh, yes, can we please, Sootclaw?"

He had to smile, remembering all the times she had tumbled over his paws as a kit. At least there was one apprentice who knew how to respect him. "Greywing already said we could, so yes," Sootclaw mewed. "What are you doing in there?"

"Changing the bedding," replied Nightpaw cheerfully. "I have to do it quick, though. The kits could be back at any time, and then there's no way I'll be able to escape. Remember, if they pass by, you didn't see me."

"Pigeonpaw, go help your sister change the moss," instructed Sootclaw. "We'll be able to get to our training that much quicker if you do."

"What?" squeaked the spiky-furred tom. "But I don't want to change the moss! That's gross!"

"I don't care what you want," said Sootclaw, exasperated. "I'm your mentor. You'll do what I say."

_Now I know what Thickfur feels like_, said Dawnpaw mildly.

Sootclaw let her know just how unimpressed he was, sending an exaggerated sigh in her direction. _He refuses to learn! He's nine moons, Dawnpaw. That's older than you were, when...when everything happened. When our minds became linked. We were so young._

Their minds slipped together, and suddenly he was awash in her emotions, lost in a tide of affection and amusement. _We still are_, Dawnpaw said softly. _Honestly, if it weren't for you, I would probably be just like Pigeonpaw is now. Petulant, cringing at Thickfur's shadow..._

Sootclaw knew where he would be if they hadn't met: by his father's side, drinking in the darkness his father spewed with every word. He still couldn't decide if Falconswoop had been a coward or if he had been brave and merely misguided. Worst of all, he didn't know if he had the guts to find out. Falconswoop had thrown himself off the cliff, never giving Sootclaw the change to test his resolve. _I would have killed him_, he told himself every night. _I would have done it._ But he wasn't so sure.

_How's Kitetail?_ he asked, trying to change the subject.

_He's good_, said Dawnpaw. _Fitting in well. The others have accepted him. He helped Breezekit the other day, and he's been consulting a lot with Slatestar._

Sootclaw was glad to hear it. He only saw his brother at Gatherings now, and it was never enough. They were cordial, but there were so many words that Sootclaw was desperate to say, words that were just hiding underneath his skin, tucked into the back of his throat. He often wondered if Kitetail had those words too, if he was full of regrets and remorse and things he wished he could say. Sootclaw smiled ruefully. _I'm glad._

Pigeonpaw and Nightpaw emerged from the nursery, scraps of moss clinging to their fur. They looked liked a tussle had broken out halfway through their chore. Nightpaw's pelt was in disarray, and Pigeonpaw had a sour look on his face. As Nightpaw danced circles around her brother, it was easy to tell who had won their mock sparring match.

Sootclaw was about to ask if they were finished when a vicious cry interrupted them. "Get them!" yowled a high-pitched voice, and then Pigeonpaw was falling to the ground, covered in squirming bundles. The apprentice cried out in anger, but they held him down, jeering in triumph.

"That's enough," said Sootclaw mildly. The kits reluctantly clambered off of Pigeonpaw's fluffy form, and the apprentice rose to his paws indignantly, giving his chest a few quick licks to hide his embarrassment. "Where's your mother?"

Streakkit and Fennelkit exchanged glances and shrugged. Though the two siblings were identical in personality, they could not have been less alike in terms of appearance. Streakkit had short brown fur, tinged with grey, while Fennelkit had long white fur, his pelt splotched with orange. At three and a half moons, they were large, and between them, probably accounted for a third of all the prey eaten. Sootclaw liked them well enough, though. One day, they would make good warriors.

"I know where mine is," said Hailkit, purring. The young tom was the spitting image of his father, down to his light blue eyes and pale grey tabby markings. Yet there was some of Redfur in his personality. "She's out leading a patrol to keep out RiverClan invaders!"

The Clans had been peaceful ever since Falconswoop's failed attempt to take over the lake. Though there was the occasional border skirmish, ThunderClan and RiverClan were giving ShadowClan room to recover. Meanwhile, WindClan had been acting oddly, though as long as they kept the peace, Eaglestar didn't seem to care.

"Sootclaw, can we go training with you, please please _please_?" begged Streakkit, her yellow eyes wide.

From behind them, Pigeonpaw snorted. "Don't let them come along," he mewed snottily. Sootclaw was tempted to swat him over the ear and remind him of the time that another annoying kit had begged to come along to training sessions. Instead, he looked down at Sprucetail's kits and shook his head. "Not this time. You'll be apprentices soon enough."

Hailkit flicked his companions with his tail. "Yeah, we're still too young. Want to go play RiverClan invasion behind the nursery instead? You can be Eaglestar, Fennelkit, and I'll be Slatestar of ThunderClan."

"What about me?" asked Streakkit indignantly.

"I saved you the best role," said Hailkit calmly. "You get to be my father. Or you can be Toadstar, but I know you like acting out the death scenes."

Sootclaw watched them tumble away and felt his heart twist painfully. He missed his former mentor so much that it hurt. Hailstripe had been everything to him, a real father, though he hadn't realized it at the time. The grey tom had spent so much time trying to please Falconswoop that he hadn't seen how much Hailstripe had cared for him. Now Hailstripe was gone, though his legacy would continue. Hailkit was promising, the fulfillment of what his father had began. Redfur would be proud.

_If only I had told him that before it was too late_, Sootclaw thought sadly.

_Sootclaw?_ She had noticed the sudden sorrow in his mind. It stained the portrait their union created, sending a shock of dark blue through the haze of oranges and pinks. The tom found it easier and easier to see her mind now, as well as access it. He could probably slip beneath her skin if he wanted, though they had come to an unspoken agreement never to do anything like that without permission. Sootclaw remembered the time Dawnpaw had entered his mind by accident; just the thought of losing the power of his body sent shivers through him. No, that would never happen again. Instead, the two had learned to block each other out and retain their privacy.

_You made loving others seem so easy, with all your memories of Branchpaw_, he told her. _But it's hard._

Dawnpaw hesitated. _I didn't know that at the time. I thought it was so easy, too. I thought I could save him just by loving him, but I was wrong. Love makes you strong, but it can't solve your problems without your help. It's the best thing in the world, but it's also the worst._

He knew the truth of that statement. Love made him feel alive, like he was soaring far above the treetops. Whenever he saw Lilystream, the feelings overtook him until he could barely breathe. Sootclaw had professed his feelings to her many times; sometimes slow, sometimes fast, sometimes between ragged breaths, and sometimes in cries so loud he was surprised he didn't wake the whole forest. And yet whenever he returned to camp, the guilt stole over him, the pain of knowing he was breaking the warrior code.

Sootclaw had never told Dawnpaw how he felt about her, and truth be told, he barely knew the answer to that. He needed her, it was true. The feeling of her mind against his sent chills down his spine, and the thought of living without her nearly broke him. Whenever he saw her at Gatherings, he felt his body cry out for her, felt his soul try to escape his flesh and bones and reach hers. But he couldn't love two cats at once. He couldn't put himself through that. And so he kept silent.

Pigeonpaw was still licking flakes of ice and moss from his pelt. He looked up at Sootclaw, eyes narrowed. "Can we go now?"

Sootclaw flicked his tail. "One moment. Nightpaw, where's your mentor?"

"Behind you," she said cheerfully, and Sootclaw turned to see the skinny warrior striding into camp. Though he was shivering, his eyes were alight with humour, and his movements energetic.

"Ready to go, Sootclaw?" asked Greywing. Sootclaw nodded, following the senior warrior out of camp. He fell into step beside the older tom, casting the occasional glance back to make sure that Nightpaw and Pigeonpaw were trotting after them. It felt strange to be a mentor, to walk alongside Greywing as equals.

_What if I can't turn Pigeonpaw into a good warrior?_ Sootclaw asked. He felt Dawnpaw's mind thrum into life against his as she thought up an answer. He was so used to feeling her beside him, and though they had learned to separate their lives, he sometimes still woke with strange dreams in his mind, her dreams. They were usually about Branchpaw. Sootclaw had never brought it up with her, though he found himself wondering if she ever found Falconswoop in her head.

_You're a fine mentor_, Dawnpaw reassured him. _Eaglestar knew what he was doing when he picked you._

They slipped by the boulder marking the camp entrance and padded into the forest. Around them, darkness loomed. Huge drifts of snow covered the trees and blocked out the sun. Far beneath the frosty canopy, the ground was hard and brittle, with only a dusty covering of snow. The wind whistled through the pines, sharp and dry, making Sootclaw shiver. He and Pigeonpaw were mostly fine with their thick pelts, but Nightpaw and Greywing were obviously freezing. The young she-cat's teeth were chattering as she tried to keep up with her mentor.

The tom thought about Hailkit as they walked. He would have loved to mentor the young kit instead of Pigeonpaw. The injustice of it made him grind his teeth. Didn't Eaglestar realize that he was wasting Sootclaw's potential as a mentor? He knew the leader loved his son, but it would be of greater benefit to the Clan if Sootclaw was to mentor Hailkit instead. The kit would grow to be a better warrior than Pigeonpaw ever would. Besides, Sootclaw felt as though he owed Hailstripe a great debt, and he needed to repay it.

Another thing struck him as unjust: Redfur's appointment as deputy. She was a fine warrior, but she should have been in the nursery with Hailkit instead of letting Sprucetail raise him.

_I thought you approved of Redfur as deputy?_ Dawnpaw wondered.

Sootclaw shifted uncomfortably. _I do. But there are better warriors..._

_Like you?_ Dawnpaw's words were sharp. Sootclaw flinched.

_I'm a great warrior_, he told her. _Everyone knows it. I would make a better deputy than Redfur, if I just had the time._

_ You don't_, snapped Dawnpaw. Her hostility was a new phenomenon to him. She had always been patient in the past, but for the past moon, things had been different. Her temper was shorter, and though they never actually discussed the reason why, Sootclaw kept wondering if she was mad at him. He couldn't think of a reason why, though. He hadn't done anything wrong. The she-cat continued. _You're still young. Your time will come._

Her words irked him, and annoyance made him say something he would never mean in a thousand seasons. _I could be deputy right now. It would have been so easy. If I had listened to my father..._

A sharp pang of worry shot through her. _You don't regret anything, do you? With Falconswoop?_

_Of course not_, he reassured her quickly, feeling guilty. _I don't regret a single thing. I just want to be the best warrior I can for my Clan._

_I'm sorry. I know_. Dawnpaw seemed to calm slightly. Sootclaw sighed in relief. Though he had spoken the truth, he knew she didn't completely believe him. Ever since he had snapped off their connection in the past, crying out about how love was weak and only physical strength was important, she seemed to always be half-expecting him to do it again. Sootclaw would never break their connection again, he knew that now, but he wondered if she fully believed him.

_Don't be sorry. I hate making you worry_. He felt her brighten at his words, but quickly reverted his attention back to the cats around him. Greywing had stopped them as they walked into a large clearing, fringed by spruces and cedars. The ground was piled high with snow, and above them, the sky was a pale blue.

"We have to fight _here_?" said Pigeonpaw in dismay. "Look at how deep the snow is! It'll be impossible!"

Greywing merely shook his head. "That's exactly the point. You two need to learn to fight in even the toughest of conditions. Pigeonpaw, you head to that side of the clearing. Nightpaw, you stay over here. When I say go, I want you two to start sparring. Claws sheathed, of course, and nothing dangerous.

"Prepare to be humiliated," Pigeonpaw told his sister. She merely rolled her eyes and watched as he walked around the edge of the clearing in order to assume his position.

"Go," commanded Greywing. The two apprentices threw themselves at each other. Pigeonpaw tripped over the snow and stumbled to the side, while Nightpaw misjudged her leap and landed past him. The she-cat spun around, preparing to fight him, but the grey-and-white tom was starting to careen off the side of the pile of snow. Nightpaw flung herself at him, knocking them both to the ground. The two cats tussled, but Nightpaw had the advantage of surprise, and she eventually came out on top, breathing heavily.

Pigeonpaw spat out a mouthful of snow. "Cheater!"

"Enough," said Sootclaw idly. "That was painful to watch."

Greywing shot him a confused glance before looking back at the apprentices. "That was alright, but neither of you would stand a chance against a trained warrior. Try it again, and this time, take it slow."

_It's just hard to teach him, you know? _Sootclaw thought grimly, expecting Dawnpaw's mind to vibrate against his.

It didn't. There was a split-second of horrible, wrenching pain, like his body was being split in two, and then everything changed. She snapped away from him and he gasped, nearly collapsing on the ground. Sootclaw tried to find her mind and only managed to touch black. He felt empty, hollow, broken beyond belief. There was a nothingness surrounding him, a void where all of her love and life and laughter had been.

_Dawnpaw!_ Sootclaw searched desperately for her, throwing himself into the space, hoping he would somehow slide into her mind. But she was gone, and he could feel the brightness ebbing away from his mind. There was a huge gash where their connection had been, a rip where the membranes had been pulled away. A sob caught in his throat and his stomach churned. Sickness threatened to overtake him. _Dawnpaw, where are you?_

She had vanished, and in her place, there was only a terrible emptiness.

**X X X X X X X**

**A/N: **The plot thickens. Or sickens. However you want to describe it. Sootclaw seems to have retained a little bit of his brattiness, though I can't blame him. He hasn't needed to be altruistic for the past four moons; things have gone back to normal for him. Compared to Pigeonpaw, though, everyone is a saint. Also, I'm a huge fan of Hailkit, so yay. It pains me to say I don't really remember Hailstripe all too well; I haven't written him for almost a year.

In all seriousness, things are starting to happen in the story. Something happened to the mind-link, and you'll get half the answer to that in the next update, which is...drumroll please...Thickfur's POV! I've been teasing about it forever, but it's finally here, all written and sitting in my document manager waiting to be published. I'm happy with the way it turned out!

Sorry for the late update, I was away for the past couple of days. Lastly, DawnxSoot fans, there's no need for alarm. Well, actually, there's a little need for alarm. But remember that we're not even halfway through the trilogy - not that I'm promising anything for the future.

**ScourgexScarlet:** I doubt Thickfur is ever excited for anything, but thanks XD

**bubbletail:** Thanks for the review :) Can you tell the answer from this chapter?

**KittyKat8888:** Hey! Wow, it means a lot that you've finally started to review, thanks so much. Dawnpaw is about eleven moons old right now, so fairly close, and no, I hadn't planned anything with her and Kitetail.

**frostfeather:** Heh, are you sure that Alder is a lovebird?

**Blackish:** About Chantelle…it was good of you to notice that. First, I don't think she can personally make up her mind between the two. She would be happy either way, as long as it resulted with a kingdom in the end. She wants Alder to fight, she wants him to be the ideal "prince", but she would be okay with laying low for awhile until Baron is gone. Alder, on the other hand, isn't interested in going back at all, and she's desperate to ignore that.

Alder is a little bland right now. He's very reserved and polite, but we'll see more of him in future chapters (from a different POV than Chantelle's, actually.)

Good call on the "knocked-out" thing for Fogpaw. I wasn't planning on showing her waking-up scene, but I'll definitely take your words into consideration.

**Coqui's Song:** I guess we can dub this fic "the-story-where-stuff-actually-happened-outside-the-Clans." Trust me when I say that both the loners and their pursuers will play an important role in the story :)

**Thistlethorn of Shadowclan:** Aww, yeah, Fogpaw's cute :D And you know what authors do to cute characters, right? We torture them!

**Hannah- Queen of Rawring:** First off, I'd like to say thanks for reviewing :D I'm glad you liked PotS, and it's awesome that you're here reading the sequel too. Thanks a bunch for all the compliments; I just hope I can live up to them!

Next chapter should have been posted tomorrow, but as I'm late on this one, it should be up on Saturday. Then we'll have an update next Monday and everything will go back to normal. It also means I actually need to start writing chapter five before we get to next week and I realize that I have nothing for you all.

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	5. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER THREE**

Thickfur should have known that something was wrong. He could sense it as soon as he woke, a pervasive feeling of unease, but he pushed it aside. He was a cat who believed only in what he could see before him, what he could scent, what he felt underneath his paws. The tom was a staunch believer in the real, and if Dawnpaw hadn't completely shaken up his views four moons ago, he would have been content to let this feeling slide completely from his mind.

As it was, he let it linger in the back, bottling it up behind walls and walls. That was where most of his feelings went; memories, flashes of raw emotion, vulnerability. Thickfur kept them all contained, especially the memories. He never let himself pull them out, but they were always there, ghosts and spectres that tugged at the back of his mind, whispering accusations. They hadn't bothered him for moons. Now, with Dawnpaw's revelation, they were back.

It was a cold, snowy day, and he knew that his apprentice was likely still curled in her nest, trying to ignore the world around her. He had become slightly more fond of the she-cat, though she was still unbearably frail and meek at times. It would take hard words to strengthen her shell; he knew that, Slatestar knew that, but the logic had never occurred to Dawnpaw, and she had seen fit to hate him instead. They had reached an unspoken agreement, however, and their sessions had become almost pleasant.

Thickfur had to respect her after what had happened with Branchpaw. It had been very brave of her to go after her brother, though in retrospect, it had been a dangerous idea and he should have stopped her. The two had never spoken about the events of that day. Both of them knew that he had lied to Slatestar, but it was a forbidden topic between them. Yet still it hung in the air, heavy and thick.

It was the same regarding her mind-link with Sootclaw. He didn't dare bring it up – he didn't want to believe it – but Thickfur knew that it was real. Still, he pretended that it wasn't, and they never spoke of it, something for which he was glad. Sometimes, whenever he found her alone, he wondered if she was talking to the ShadowClan warrior. Then he immediately banished the thought from his mind and barked out a gruff order. She would look up at him with eyes full of hurt or anger, or however she was feeling that day, but Thickfur didn't care. He had job to do.

The warrior was wrong – she wasn't in her den. Thickfur found her in the middle of camp, her pelt speckled with snow. The ginger she-cat was half-heartedly picking at a scrawny starling. Dawnpaw had become skinnier with leafbare, her ribs beginning to show underneath her thin pelt. In contrast, Thickfur hardly felt the cold. He was protected by layers of muscle hidden beneath his woolly fur.

"Either eat it or don't," he mewed harshly. Dawnpaw looked up, startled, her amber eyes wide with apprehension. Then something changed in her gaze and a shield slid over her eyes.

"Yes, Thickfur," she replied, getting to her paws. "I'll just bring the rest to the nursery, then. Breezekit and Mothkit need all the food they can get."

Thickfur nodded, pleased. Auburnfur's kits were getting bigger every day. "See to it," he said. "And be quick."

Dawnpaw scrambled off, clutching the starling in her mouth. Thickfur didn't bother following her to the nursery – he knew what he would find there. Mothkit would be bounding around, Breezekit would be huddling quietly in the corner, and Limekit would be trying to engage both of them in a play session. Thickfur still hadn't come to terms with being an uncle. He and Kitetail were the only ones who knew the truth of Limekit's parentage, and the grey tabby knew that it had shaken Kitetail quite deeply.

Still, Limekit was a good kit, and nothing like his father. He was young and cheerful, as well as naturally inquisitive, but Kitetail kept a close eye on him all the same. There was always the worry that Limekit would start playing rough, that he would display traits like those of his father. Thickfur could only hope that Limekit would never know the truth about Falconswoop. Something like that could ruin his life.

Dawnpaw came trotting back out, looking more eager than she had moments ago. Pleased once more with her change in demeanour, Thickfur signalled her to follow as he leapt up the trail out of camp. Snow crunched under their paws as they entered the forest. Above them, elms and oaks stood bare as skeletons against the grey sky.

The air was cold and heavy with the scent of the woods. Bark and mouse and mud came together to make a musky and familiar tang in his mouth. Around them, Thickfur could hear the sound of birds, but their songs were faint and brittle. Snowflakes dotted his pelt, melting almost as soon as they touched the warm skin underneath. Beside him, Dawnpaw walked with her head up, taking in the sights of the forest.

"Stop," he commanded, once they were a fair distance away from camp.

Dawnpaw did as she was told. "What?"

Thickfur forced himself to tense up. "Did you hear that?" he asked in a hiss.

Her eyes widened and the fur on her neck began to fluff up. "Thickfur, what's going on?"

He lunged forward, knocking her down into the snow. Dawnpaw struggled, but he kept his paw on the back of her shoulders, holding her in the bank. Eventually, the she-cat went limp. Thickfur grunted and stepped backward, removing the pressure from her back.

The ginger she-cat struggled back to her paws, spitting out a mouthful of snow. Emotions ran behind her eyes, anger and pain and humiliation. She hated him in that instant, he knew that. He hated himself too, just a little bit. This was what she needed. One day, she would realize that he was just doing his duty as mentor, and until that day came, he wouldn't cater to her feelings.

"That wasn't fair," she managed, voice hitching in the middle. She was mad. Thickfur had expected that. Their relationship seemed to run in cycles: they were at odds, then they reconciled, they trained well, and then he would betray her trust all over again. Thickfur needed to keep her on her toes.

_I care about you_, he thought. _You'll make a great warrior_. But he couldn't tell her that, so he just sneered. "You should have been paying more attention."

"I had no reason to expect you would attack me!" Dawnpaw protested.

"Always expect the unexpected," Thickfur said, and then lunged at her again. This time, Dawnpaw was faster. She leapt to the side and pivoted on her hind legs, meaning to strike at him as he came back up. But Thickfur changed direction immediately as he landed, ducking underneath her attack, and coming up to hit her in the chest. Dawnpaw stumbled backward and landed on her backside in the snow.

Thickfur came to a stop, panting. "Mediocre. Are you alright?"

"Yes," said Dawnpaw, rising to her feet. Thickfur was relieved to see that she had no injuries. He had made sure to choose a patch of softer snow, with no branches or stones peeking out, though he doubted she was grateful or even aware of that. Still, she was fine.

And then she wasn't.

Dawnpaw fell to the ground, limbs giving out beneath her body like they were made of sand. She lay there, legs splayed, eyes rolled back into her skull. Thickfur could only stand there, heart seized by a horrible, terrifying panic. Cold washed through his body. Nothing made sense. He touched his nose to her shoulder. "Dawnpaw?"

She was still breathing, at least. The thought didn't relax Thickfur at all. He nudged her again, harder this time. "Dawnpaw!" But there was no response, so he called her name again. Then a fourth time, and then a fifth, until his words were just wails, lost in the wind.

A thought struck him. Kitetail.

Thickfur opened his mouth and scented the air. If he was lucky, some of his Clanmates would be nearby. They could help him carry Dawnpaw back to the medicine cat's den. He tasted three different cats, their scents strong and heavy – they were close. "Larchstripe!" he yowled. "Elmheart! Galepaw!"

Galepaw emerged from the bushes first, looking nearly a ghost as he stood in the snow, his white pelt blending in with the forest around him. Larchstripe and Elmheart came after, their eyes wide. It was Larchstripe who spoke first. "Thickfur. What is it?"

He had no idea how to respond. "It's Dawnpaw," he managed to say. "She fainted."

Galepaw looked shocked. The young tom ran forward to nose his friend's body. From what Thickfur knew of the drama in the Clan, the two apprentices had become quite close recently. The part of him that cared was glad; Galepaw was shaping up to be a fine apprentice, and Dawnpaw could learn a lot from his attitude.

Larchstripe nodded swiftly. "Galepaw, run back to camp. Tell Kitetail to meet us as we return. Elmheart, Thickfur, you'll help me carry her back." Galepaw nodded and took off through the frost-covered woods.

"Carry her back how?" asked Elmheart quietly. Thickfur appraised the golden tom. He and Dawnpaw had been distant lately, and though Thickfur didn't care to know why, he wanted to be sure he could trust Elmheart to carry her back safely.

Thickfur looked over at Larchstripe. "Grab her by the scruff of her neck and haul her over my back. The three of us can support her. Elmheart, you'll take my left, Larchstripe, my right."

The silver she-cat did as he commanded, pulling Dawnpaw up over Thickfur's bulky frame. When she was laid horizontally over his shoulders, he shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. Silently, Elmheart and Larchstripe sidled against him, each helping him to support the apprentice across his back.

"Let's go," he said quietly.

_"From this moment until she earns her warrior name, this apprentice shall be known as Dawnpaw. Thickfur, you will be mentor to Dawnpaw. You are a strong and loyal warrior, and I trust you will pass on your knowledge to your new apprentice." Slatestar's voice boomed out over the clearing._

_ Thickfur shifted uncomfortably. His skin was crawling, and not just from the greenleaf heat. He wasn't sure that Slatestar had made the right decision. Was he ready to be a mentor? But it didn't matter. The tom had a duty to this new apprentice, and he wouldn't let her down._

_ Dawnpaw approached him and as they touched noses, Thickfur could see the apprehension in her eyes. He smiled, trying to ease her nerves. It was the one mercy he could allow her; the one act of kindness before this trial started. "It'll be okay," he promised, and in her frightened amber eyes, he saw that she believed him._

Walking with Dawnpaw slung over their backs was the easy part. The hard part was the silence. Thickfur didn't mind silence – he craved it, relished in it, dreamt of it – but he could tell that the others were anxious, and it made the space between them stifling.

"What happened before...?" The words came tumbling from Elmheart's mouth as if he had spent the last few minutes desperately trying to hold them in. The look in his eyes suggested he wished he could take them back. Thickfur knew that he had that effect on cats. They all thought they knew him: angry and arrogant and with no tolerance for disobedience. He had to give them credit – it was mostly true.

Thickfur shrugged. "We were doing battle training. She was fine. Then she fell." He didn't care enough about Elmheart to give him the rest of the details. The golden-brown tom had turned into a respectable warrior, and he had thankfully grown more solemn since his apprentice days, but he still had a long way to go before he had proved himself.

_ "Dawnpaw, move away from there!" he barked, irritated, but she didn't hear him. The ginger she-cat was stumbling backwards into a slick patch of mud. Once wrong step, and she would slip. For a second, he let himself wonder if she was really in pain, but then dismissed the thought. Her flank was fine._

_ She cried out and fall back, and before he knew what he was doing, Thickfur was bounding past her, trying to reach the bottom before she did. If she hit those rocks...he didn't let himself have the thought. Instead he threw himself down the hill, racing to pass her, to stop her descent before she could smash into the jagged rocks along the shoreline. _

_ Thickfur skidded to a stop and she collided with his side. The grey tabby held still, digging his paws into the ground, his breath coming short and ragged. Dawnpaw looked up, seemingly just realizing what had happened._

_ "Thank you." Her whisper wrenched at his heart. Then anger began to boil in his stomach. His gaze went hard. There was no tolerance for weakness. No forgiveness._

_ "Never do something so mouse-brained ever again!" he roared, barely hearing her whispered response. "I can't always risk my life to save you."_

"Was anything off before?" asked Larchstripe worriedly.

Thickfur shook his head. "She was fine." An image flashed through his mind of her face, burning with humiliation.

"Is there some kind of sickness like this?" asked Elmheart nervously. He was starting to let his concern get the better of him. "Something that causes cats to faint? Whatever it is, Kitetail can fix it, right?"

Thickfur hadn't seen the young warrior this worked up for a long time. Usually when he saw Elmheart, the tom's green eyes were filled with humour and light – except, of course, when he was around Dawnpaw. Then he was guarded. Thickfur didn't know what had passed between them, and he didn't care, but he did know that Elmheart was extremely worried right now. The last time the golden-brown tabby had been this distraught was when Branchpaw had gone insane.

That was the story, anyway. Thickfur suspected that Dawnpaw knew something more than she let on, but as it had to do with the mind-link, he didn't push it.

_ "Hailstripe's death wasn't an accident!" Dawnpaw cried, and her voice was so honest that he wanted to believe her so badly it hurt. But Thickfur knew the dangers of naivety, of foolish belief, of pranks gone wrong._

_ "Then tell me who killed him." His voice was ice and it made her flinch back. "Tell me the name of his murderer."_

_ He watched as she choked on the words. It was there in her throat, stuck, suffocating her. Thickfur watched her through narrowed eyes, wishing that everything was different, that it was all easier. Did he believe her about Sootpaw? It was hard to tell. It explained everything, and the story of how he had met the ShadowClan apprentice had been the truth. But he couldn't let himself believe it, couldn't get trapped in that nightmare again._

_ While Dawnpaw drowned on her words and her fear (and why couldn't he just be there for her, he was her mentor, he needed to comfort her and he was failing and everything was wrong), Thickfur merely shook his head. "I believe you about Sootpaw, I really do." He barely knew what he was saying. The words fell off his tongue so easily. "You need to learn to leave it alone."_

"If Kitetail doesn't know the remedy, maybe Birchcloud will," said Larchstripe mildly. ShadowClan's medicine cat had been a consistent sight in their camp while he had been training Kitetail. Now that Kitetail had received his full name, Birchcloud visited far less frequently, though the two still remained friends.

Thickfur nodded. It was worth a try. "I'm sure Slatestar will dispatch someone to get him if the need arises."

_"I can't, I can't, I can't," sobbed Dawnpaw, collapsing in on herself. Her body shuddered and convulsed as she balled up, trying to repel the outside world. Thickfur felt his heart go out to her, felt a __strange feeling come upon him, felt himself step over the line he had set a moon ago. This was the __exception to the rule. She needed him._

_ So he pressed his side to hers and let her take in his warmth. It was the only comfort he could give her. Thickfur remembered being a kit and pressing himself in Slatestar's fur. He wished he could go back to those days, when he had been a kit, when there had been no responsibilities. _

_ "Yes," he told her, because now he had the biggest responsibility of them all, and her name was Dawnpaw. "You can."_

They were almost at camp when Kitetail and Galepaw came rushing out of the trees to meet them. Kitetail took in the scene with wide eyes. "Galepaw told me that she fainted. What happened?" The medicine cat looked truly nervous, his fur in completely disarray.

"She just collapsed," said Thickfur shortly. "What's wrong with her?"

"I – I don't know..." It pained the brown tabby to admit it, that much was obvious. Kitetail was generally a very quick learner, and a naturally skilled healer, so it bothered him that he couldn't identify this illness. Thickfur might have felt pity for him in any other case, but right now, all he cared about was Dawnpaw.

"Let's get her to your den," he said, and there was no sympathy in his voice for the young tom, only the hard edge of worry.

.

They laid her down on a large nest of moss. Thickfur remembered all the times he had yelled at her for forgetting to change the elder's bedding, and then he felt a stab of anger at himself for reminiscing. There was no room for emotion here. He just needed to look after Dawnpaw.

"Just leave her there, she should be fine," mewed Kitetail. He stood over her, an array of herbs laid out between his paws.

Thickfur stood behind Dawnpaw protectively. "What have you got there?"

"Nothing that will wake her up," said Kitetail woefully. He rolled a ball of marigold between his paws. "I've never seen anything like this before. I'll talk with Birchcloud, though I doubt he's heard of it."

"What's going to happen to her?" demanded Thickfur, pausing to remove a hard lump of snow from Dawnpaw's pelt. "Can she eat or drink?"

Kitetail shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Do you know _anything_?" Worry made his words sharp. Thickfur took a deep breath. "How long can she last like this?"

Kitetail shrugged. "Maybe...maybe half a moon, if her body begins to shut down. Her heart rate will slow, and so will her breathing, but she'll be alive. We just need to find a way to wake her."

"And if we can't wake her?" Thickfur insisted.

"If she doesn't wake up soon..." Kitetail trailed off. When he looked back up, his amber eyes were wide with fear. "I'm scared that she's just going to wither away."

**X X X X X X X**

**A/N:** So Thickfur has feelings, sort of. I didn't delve that deep into his past in this chapter, but I promise, it will come up at some point! Other various comments: we'll see more of Kitetail when he's not being scared, Elmheart's definitely a lot more serious now, and Galepaw just always seems to be the runner for important plot points.

Anyway, I like how Thickfur came out. The challenge was writing his feelings without turning it into a Sootclaw-esque monologue about feelings and walls and waves of colour and love and pain and all that angst. Speaking of Sootclaw, I'm sure you're anxious to hear how Dawnpaw feels about him at the moment. That will come next chapter, so stay tuned!

Also, Limekit is lime like limestone, not like the fruit! Just to clear that up :)

Another general P.S.A: Many of you seem concerned, even upset, with the fact that Sootclaw and Lilystream are mates. I can only take that to mean that I have been successful in my writing. I just ask you to trust that I'll give every relationship the credit that it's due. There's obviously something between Dawnpaw and Sootclaw, and it would be unfair if I let it go unresolved forever. Feelings will be explored, I promise. You'll just have to wait and see!

**bubbletail:** Yeah, seems like it's Sootclaw. But read the above. :)

**KittyKat8888:** Berrynose had the potential to be a great character, and then the Erins sort of... faltered. Whatever happens with Pigeonpaw, I promise he'll at least be a developed character in the end.

**Juniperleaf of BlazeClan**: It excites me that you check your email just for my updates, that's awesome. You're not the only one annoyed with Dawnpaw's passiveness, though - Thickfur seems to be pretty bothered by it too. :) Also, online fist bump?

**ScourgexScarlet:** Aww, thanks!

**The Last Clan:** Haha, the one LilyxSoot shipper. (Loot? Sily? SLILY. WE'RE CALLING IT SLILY. Okay, no.) We won't be seeing the kits for awhile yet, unfortunately, but we'll have a Slily (mwahaha) scene coming up in a few chapters.

**Blackish:** You're definitely right about the pace; the chapter was meant for exposition, basically a "what has happened to ShadowClan in the past for moons" spot. The story is going to start off a bit slow, as we do have a lot more POVs in KotS than we did in _Pawn_, but it should pick up.

Hailkit sees his father as a hero, a great and noble cat. He's mature for his age, so he's able to think of death in a nonthreatening way while still understanding it, but he's still too young to really understand the act of killing. His father died before he was born, so he was never really attached to him, more just the idea of him. He feels proud to be Hailstripe's son, but he doesn't "love" Hailstripe, or anything like that.

**Coqui's Song:** I have a great (and unrelated) mind-blowing moment near the end of the fic. I'm very excited for it. More on subject, the kit's lives won't be rainbows and butterflies, but that's all I'm giving away. Anyway, yeah, here's your look into Thickfur's mind!

**EverythingBurnz:** I hope you slept in so you will actually get this the moment you wake up. As that isn't really likely, however, try to enjoy it anyway! Unfortunately this doesn't really explain what happened to the mind-link, but hey, everybody loves Thickfur!

**allygirl56:** Aww, please don't be upset or break your keyboard! I don't want to be held responsible for any havoc you might wreak during your despair. In all seriousness, though, just because Sootclaw is "putting buns in Lilystream's oven", it doesn't mean his feelings are conflicted. The poor guy is more than a little confused.

**frostfeather:** As the last chapter should have mentioned, Sootclaw and Dawnpaw are able to block each other out at will, thus preserving privacy. She would definitely know that something was up with them, but not the exact details, and this question will actually be resolved next chapter.

**Hannah- Queen of Rawring:** Unfortunately, Hailkit doesn't play a huge role in this story, but he'll take on a larger part in the next. As for Sootclaw, he's not nearly as bad as he used to be. He's just gotten fairly lazy, and it'll take something big like this to make him realize that being mature isn't just something he can do when he feels like it - especially if he's going to be a father.

**Thistlethorn of Shadowclan:** Yeah, seriously, go work on it XD Anyway, thanks for the review, and glad to know you like the newest ShadowClan additions!

A few random postscripts: I feel guilty about the length of my author's notes. Slily is now the best ship name ever. I wish I could just write Thickfur chapters for the rest of my life.

Next chapter is Dawnpaw!

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	6. Chapter Four

**CHAPTER FOUR  
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Dawnpaw opened her eyes to darkness.

"Where...?" she croaked, tongue feeling limp and fleshy in her mouth. Her throat was dry, and there was a horrible pounding in her head. She felt like her skull was being shattered into pieces, collapsing more with each throb.

"You're awake," said a strange voice. It was soft and swift and urgent all at once. There was something _wrong_ about, something unnatural, that she just couldn't place. But the rough edge to the words was honest, and she relaxed.

"No..." She couldn't be awake. Everything was dark! This was dream; maybe she was being visited by a warrior from StarClan, just as Sootclaw had been. "This isn't real, is it?"

"Unfortunately, this is as real as it gets." The voice was wistful. She felt it come closer with each word. "Just let your eyes adjust."

Dawnpaw did as she was told, twisting her head from side to side and hoping to catch a glimpse of – something, she wasn't sure what. Eventually, the darkness began to recede from her vision, and she realized that she was lying in the middle of a misty forest. Trees rose up around her, but instead of reaching the sky, they merely faded into the greyness that was painted over top of them. It was cold here, and she suddenly felt immensely uncomfortable, as if there were a hundred eyes watching from the bramble.

The cat beside her was tall and lean, with broad shoulders and a ragged pelt. Despite his obvious muscles, he was skinny, his ribs peeking up from underneath his dark tabby fur. Crossing his pelt was a lattice of scars, ugly pink skin glistening in the eerie fog. Dawnpaw couldn't take her eyes off his tail. It was mutilated beyond description, shredded into long pieces like weeds splayed out behind him. "Who are you?" she gasped, a new wave of terror gripping her heart.

The tom made no move to attack her. He turned his head and met her gaze, his narrowed eyes green and neutral. "My name isn't important," he mewed. When she tried to protest, he waved his tail for silence. "But because I know you'll insist – I was named Shredtail. It no longer means anything to me, but maybe it will mean something to you."

"I don't understand," said Dawnpaw weakly. It was an understatement. She had never been more confused, more scared, more lost. One moment, she had been staring at Thickfur, embarrassment twisting in her gut, and the next she had been here, in this dark forest.

_Dark Forest_. The name sent a stab of fear through her. Was this...it couldn't be...she wasn't _dead_, was she? _Sootclaw_, she called, needing his warmth. But as his name slipped from her mind, it fell into an open space, and was swallowed by the abyss.

Sootclaw wasn't there.

Before she could process that information, Shredtail was talking again. "Your name isn't who you are. But that's not relevant right now. We need to move."

"Move?" she repeated dumbly.

The scarred tom nodded. "We're not safe here. Night will be falling soon, and you don't want to be exposed when it happens."

Dawnpaw looked up at the greyness overtop of her. Was it the sky, she wondered, or just an endless canopy? "It doesn't seem like the evening," she ventured shyly. Though the woods were dank and cold, it was still easy to see. The darkness earlier had been her own eyes, not the fault of the forest.

"No," Shredtail agreed, "but it will soon. Night comes quickly here, and it is the most dangerous time. Come with me." He turned away, signalling with his tail.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," said Dawnpaw, overcome by a sudden rush of bravery. All of her questions and confusion were swirling around in the mire of her mind, and she needed some answers. "Not until you tell me what's going on."

Shredtail looked annoyed. "Dawnpaw, I'll explain everything later. Please just come with me."

"No," she said, shaking her head and hoping that he didn't see the tremors in her legs. _He knows my name_, she realized, breath hitching. _He knows who I am._ "I want answers."

"Dawnpaw!" His voice was sharp. His green eyes were full of anger, and she cowered from him, seeing his strength for the first time. He was a warrior of this forest, touched by the darkness, and she was foolish to antagonize him. "I understand that you're scared. I will explain everything to you in due time."

She said nothing, but bowed her head and followed him. The anger seeped from Shredtail, his body relaxing, but it was impossible to forget the rage that had filled his eyes. Scared and confused, Dawnpaw resolved to just keep putting one paw in front of the other. _No looking back_, she told herself, and she followed the tabby into the night.

.

Shredtail led her to a ragged bramble den, hidden within a cluster of oaks. Beside the trees ran a sluggish stream, the water brown and thick. Dawnpaw looked at it and shuddered, no longer thirsty. Fungi lined the bases of the large grey trunks, bathing the grove in a light green glow. The air was cold and stale, and underneath her paws, the ground was hard with frost.

"In there," said Shredtail grimly, flicking his mess of a tail at the den. Dawnpaw stared at him for a moment before obeying. Night had fallen, blanketing the forest in a horrible, pervasive darkness. The she-cat followed the light of the mushrooms, careful not to trip over the roots and stones littering the ground.

The den was small and cramped, but the moss on the bottom was fresh and clean, and the bramble made good shelter from the fog. It was dry inside the thicket, the air warm, and Dawnpaw let out a long, slow breath. It felt safe in here – not nearly as safe as being at home in ThunderClan, but safer than she had felt since she woke up here.

Shredtail appeared at the entrance. "Stay here," he commanded. "I'll be back in the morning."

"What?" Dawnpaw's throat went dry. Frightening as Shredtail was, the tom was her only defense against the darkness – and what lurked within. "You're leaving me?"

"This place is safe," Shredtail promised. "I'll return with the light, and I'll bring you food."

She frowned. "There are animals down here?" asked the ginger she-cat. Dawnpaw hadn't scented any prey during their walk through the woods.

"Some," said Shredtail quietly. "We don't eat, but you need to stay nourished."

Dawnpaw looked down at herself, confused. "But...this is a dream, isn't it? Not a dream, but a vision...it's just my mind, right? I'm not actually dead, am I?"

The dark brown tom shook his head. "You're still alive, and it's that body I'm worried about. Now, stay here." With that, he was gone, fading away into the darkness.

Dawnpaw sank down in her nest, curling up into a ball. She closed her eyes, wishing that sleep would simply overtake her, but that was an impossibility. She was too scared to sleep, her mind still filled with fear and an endless mass of questions. Beyond the boundaries of her mind lay the emptiness. It was nothing, just a lack of life, a lack of colour and membranes and light, and it was right where Sootclaw's mind should be.

The grey warrior was gone. Their minds had been ripped apart, and it hurt so badly, a deep ache that pierced her head and heart and every breath that she took. _Sootclaw_, she thought, and she was suddenly struck by the worst worry of them all: _What if I never see him again?_

Her mind suddenly full of everything she wished she had told him, all the feelings that had never surfaced. Dawnpaw had always been too scared, too shy. It wasn't her role. That was how she had justified her silence. She was Sootclaw's support, his heart, his source of warmth and strength and love. But he was the warrior, and she had to respect his boundaries, had to keep their relationship where he wanted it. Telling him how she felt would have irreversibly changed their dynamic, and she didn't want to lose him. He meant so much to her.

So instead of sleeping, she thought of Sootclaw.

The past four moons had been so strange and yet so normal. They had fallen into a routine, had become so comfortable with each other, yet they had also learned to tune the other out. Sootclaw could block her from his mind for short periods of time, and she could return the favour if need be. Dawnpaw was grateful for the ability – they both needed their privacy – but she felt like it pulled them apart. She told herself that it was for the best, that they were from different Clans, that they couldn't afford to be as close as they were before.

That had been before Lilystream.

It had started with short periods of darkness. Then longer ones. Sootclaw wouldn't account for his whereabouts, wouldn't trust her, but his emotions were always the same afterwards – a heightened mix of pleasure and happiness and guilt.

Then, one night, Dawnpaw had slipped into his dreams by accident, and found herself wrapped around a beautiful grey she-cat, her heart soaring and her skin alive. Love had been everywhere within her, from her mind to the smallest hair on her smoky grey pelt. The world was bursting with colours and sound. Everything was perfect.

She had woken, flushed, and then they had talked. And Dawnpaw, being young and shy and gentle, had kept quiet about her own feelings, and had learned to lock them away in the back of her mind, where Sootclaw would never find them. She pulled them out whenever he was busy, blocking him for short periods of time, immersing herself in all the pain and jealousy and what-ifs.

But he was gone now, and she could let herself think all those treacherous thoughts.

She liked him. There it was, simple, bare, such a uncomplicated thought. She liked the way he looked, with his broad shoulders, smoky fur, and warm amber eyes. She liked his humour, his compassion, his dedication. Whenever she talked to him, she felt warm inside, like there was a fire starting in her gut. Dawnpaw knew that he liked her too, that he brightened whenever they spoke, but there was never electricity like there was between him and Lilystream.

That was the reason for her recent shortness, her slight spike in temper whenever their minds met. She was jealous. It was as simple as that. But she couldn't tell him, couldn't ruin their friendship, their connection. Sootclaw told her that it was special; he told her that every day. But it wasn't enough for her, and Dawnpaw hated that. She should be content, but she wanted more.

_I'm falling for Sootclaw_, she realized. Four moons ago, she never would have thought of him in that way. But she was older now, eleven moons, nearly a warrior, and these feelings were starting to develop. Dawnpaw shivered, cold, and pretended that he was there beside her, pressing his pelt against hers, keeping her warm and safe from the dark.

And so she felt asleep in his embrace.

.

Dawnpaw woke with a start, immediately sensing something wrong. She held her breath, listening to the darkness around her, trying to pinpoint whatever had woken her up. After a long silence, she heard it again, a ragged, raspy noise, dry and slow. There was another lull, and then she heard it, this time closer to her ear.

She reacted swiftly. Dawnpaw threw herself from her nest, paws outstretched, and found herself connecting with something warm and quite alive. Her attacker fell with an angry yell and as she fell on top of her assailant, he pushed up with his hind legs and bowled them over. As they tumbled on the hard ground, she felt spittle fleck her pelt. The cat underneath was scrawny and rabid, and now his jaws were nearing her ear, snapping as they came within an inch of her skin.

Then the weight was gone and Dawnpaw found herself lying on the ground, breathing heavily, and staring up at the lightening sky. It was morning, and beside her, Shredtail had another cat – her attacker – pinned to the ground. The mystery tom was large but wiry, with pale grey fur and thick black stripes. He spat up at Shredtail. "Let me go!"

Surprisingly, Shredtail released him. The pale tabby rolled over, spitting mud from his mouth. Dawnpaw gaped at them until Shredtail turned to face her. "Are you alright?"

"I...I'm okay," she said, gasping.

As the pale tabby began to rise to his feet, Shredtail struck him across the face. "Stay down, Worm."

The ginger apprentice narrowed her eyes. "You know him?"

Shredtail nodded. "He's with me. And he won't try anything like that again, will you, Worm?"

Worm grunted and stared at Dawnpaw, his yellow eyes full of hatred. "I just wanted a taste. Such pretty flesh, you know? Young. Haven't seen anything like that since Tigerstar started training apprentices."

Shredtail grimaced. "Worm here is a coward," he mewed, face expressing his disgust. "He's spent too much time in the darkness. But he's on our side, and we need all the help we can get."

"Help...for what?" asked Dawnpaw. The she-cat wasn't exactly comforted by Shredtail's words. Worm scared her. His yellow eyes were fixed on her now, making her skin crawl with discomfort.

"Getting you home," said Shredtail quietly. "You're the only one that can stop them."

"Stop...who?" Dawnpaw had a sinking feeling that she already knew the answer. After Branchpaw's death, StarClan had been quiet. Sootclaw had received no more visits from their warrior ancestors. But both of them had known that the battle was far from over. The Dark Forest was extending their power, and it was only a matter of time before they began to act.

Shredtail sighed. It was strange to see such a powerful cat so subdued. The sadness in his eyes was strange against his large frame and scarred pelt. Still, it was a relief to know that his temper wasn't lurking just beneath the surface. "I'll start at the beginning," he mewed. "Is that okay?"

"Of course," said the ginger she-cat quickly. Any answers were good answers. Despite that, her stomach churned in anticipation of what she would hear. Dawnpaw was scared. What if something terrible had befallen ThunderClan? What if she was the only survivor?

"StarClan gave you and Sootclaw powers beyond any that we have ever known," said Shredtail. "There is the mind-link, but that will only lead to more. StarClan has opened a world of possibilities to you, and if you were to discover them, it would change everything."

A million questions sprang into existence, but before she could put her voice to any of them, Shredtail continued. "The Dark Forest knows about this power. It scares them. So they brought you down here. When you killed Branchpaw, some of his darkness seeped into you. It lay in wait, existing solely to pull you away from your body. They hope to trap you here forever."

"Why?' she demanded urgently, cringing at the thought of her brother. The memory of him ascending to StarClan had lessened her grief, but his blood was still on her paws. "What are they planning?"

"I don't know," said Shredtail softly.

Dawnpaw continued. "How do you know this? How did you even know to find me?"

"I listen," said the tabby. He shot a disdainful glance at Worm. "So does he. I had to get to you before they did, not knowing if they would bother to find you at all. I wondered if they would kill you, or if they would watch as you walked, lost, until you faded away."

She let out a long breath. "You saved me," whispered Dawnpaw. It was a strange thought. All of this was so foreign. Sootclaw was supposed to be the hero. Her part in this was merely incidental. She had saved his life through the link, but he was the one who had stopped Falconswoop and saved the Clans.

Shredtail nodded. "I did. So don't make my efforts worthless. I'm risking a lot right now, but believe me when I say that you're risking more. If you don't follow my every instruction, you will get lost in here. Do you understand?"

"Yes," murmured Dawnpaw meekly. She cast a nervous glance at Worm before turning back to Shredtail. "One last question, if that's okay?"

Shredtail nodded curtly. "Go ahead."

"Why are you doing this?" she wondered. "If you're down here, it must mean you did something bad. You even said that Worm is a coward. So why are you helping me? Why should I trust you?" Yet she did trust him, trusted the rough honesty in his voice, trusted the way he had helped her so far.

"Trust me because if you don't, you'll die," growled Shredtail. "I hate living in the darkness. I would much rather live in the light. If the Dark Forest wins, the whole world will be darkness. I've made mistakes in the past, and it's time to set things straight."

Dawnpaw accepted his words. "And Worm?"

The pale tabby sneered. "I'm treated like dirt here. Living in the shadows just isn't worth it."

They weren't good cats, Dawnpaw realized. She trusted Shredtail, but he was far from angelic. These toms were not pure souls, tarnished by one mistake, one bad decision. They had been evil in life, and were seeking redemption in death. She wasn't sure how to feel about that, but she knew she had no choice.

"Now, I brought you some prey." Shredtail gestured to a rabbit placed beside the den. "Eat it quickly, because we have a long way to go, and today will only be the beginning."

"Where are we going?" asked Dawnpaw.

Worm chuckled. "Nowhere," he scoffed, "unless we're very, very lucky."

Ignoring him. Shredtail gazed downstream. "That way," he said, his eyes following the thick brown water as it chugged along the treacherous banks. "Toward StarClan. That's where we'll find our answers."

**X X X X X X X**

**A/N: **Now that Dawnpaw's older, we get to see how her feelings have developed. You will obviously have noticed her thoughts on Sootclaw this chapter, and we'll get to see how she feels about Thickfur, Branchpaw, and Elmheart in chapters to come. As to the love triangle thing - gasp, I've become so clichéd - Sootclaw obviously cares about Lilystream in a physical way, where Dawnpaw's feelings for him at the moment are more that of a high school crush, which makes sense, as she's still fairly young.

Shredtail is a canon character, for those of you keeping up with the books (even though I'm not, hah). He appears in the Dark Forest, training apprentices, and he's also featured in _Crookedstar's Promise_. As for Worm...he's definitely an interesting character. There's a lot more to him than meets the eye.

Next chapter runs back to Chantelle's POV, and it'll finish with a Kitetail segment. The plot is finally starting to move, yippee!

**ScourgexScarlet**: One of these days, you will have to explain your FFN name to me. Also, Thickfur cares about a lot of things - oh wait, no, no, he really doesn't...

**frostfeather:** Thickfur's definitely a bit of a jerk. He's very unsympathetic, and I'm sure there are moments where he absolutely can't stand Dawnpaw. That being said, you're right, he has a nicer side - even if it's hidden - and I'm glad you've come to like him! Sorry to ruin your Sootclaw fantasy though.

**Blackish:** What I like about third-person narration is that it allows me to take certain liberties in describing my character's emotions. For example, Thickfur would never say "I keep my memories bottled up but they still haunt me" in the same way that Sootclaw would never say "The first time I saw Dawnpaw in the flesh, I explicitly felt like I wanted to break both of us down and build us up back together with parts of each other and merge our minds forever", or however that segment went. I'm describing their feelings, but it's not necessarily something they put into words in their own minds.

The "I care about you" bit - those are words he wanted to say to Dawnpaw, but didn't. As for her anger at his "expect the unexpected" trick - he didn't just take her by surprise, he held her facedown in the snowbank. That would be a humiliating experience for anyone, and we know how self-conscious Dawnpaw is when it comes to her mentor (you pointed out how quickly she became angry when he commented on the unkempt state of her pelt). Thickfur being a jerk makes Dawnpaw feel bad about herself; this just serves to make her upset, but powerless to do anything about it.

**Juniperleaf of BlazeClan:** Aww, thanks! I was definitely worried about how Thickfur would come across - it was his first POV and I had to keep him in character despite all this freedom to describe his emotions. Sootclaw and Lilystream were never announced, so to speak, but uh... it's fairly obvious. Especially with Dawnpaw and Sootclaw confirming it here. Limekit is Cherrytail's son, which was explained by the fact that Falconswoop was his father. That being said, I could have made it far more clear. Also, thank you so much for the wonderful compliments. Honestly, you're just going to make me so arrogant!

**Coqui's Song:** Dawnpaw and Fogpaw aren't linked, but that was a great hypothesis! I never even thought of that, but it would make a lot of sense XD It would definitely add to the SootxDawn dynamic if there was a third party thrown into the mix, too. But no, this is what happened. Please don't be sad about running out of Thickfur chapters! D: Think of it this way - if he has five chapters remaining, he can't die for at least that long!

**The Last Clan:** Yeah, Dawnpaw's a weakling. That will change...eventually. She'll never be the physically strong character, but as you can probably tell from this chapter, she'll be facing her own coming of age trials.

You guys are amazing. I'll see you all Friday with another update!

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	7. Chapter Five

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Chantelle was used to darkness. She was used to shadows and whispers, to pawsteps and the rustling of leaves on the pavement, to the subtle sounds of the city. But she was not used to trees. Traversing the plains had been unnerving enough, but here, she felt a deep sense of unease. The trees were everywhere. They rose up around her, oak and maple and elm, rowans and birches, tall aspens and barren poplars. Without their leaves they looked threatening, macabre skeletons posed against the pale blue sky.

She didn't like it.

"It's strange here," she whispered to Alder, falling back to pad alongside him. The trio of loners had just entered ThunderClan territory – or so they assumed, given the sudden increase in scent markers – and already Chantelle was expecting a Clan patrol to jump out from the bushes. "I feel like we're being watched."

"The Tribe said that ThunderClan was at home in the forest," Alder said calmly, "but they're just cats like us. They can't talk to the trees, and they can't walk among them like spirits, either. If they're around us, we'll know, alright?"

Chantelle nodded. "Alright."

"Good," said Alder curtly, his attention straying up to Beck, who was wandering a couple of fox-lengths ahead.

She shivered and wished she could think of other things. Whenever Chantelle let her mind wander, it always led her right back to their situation. She couldn't put the cold and the fear out of her mind. The skinny black she-cat shivered again, wishing she had a body like Beck's. Then she would never be cold again. The golden tom seemed untouched by the weather as he led them through the woods, trekking on through the deep snow.

No birds sang as they walked. Once in awhile, Chantelle thought she caught the squeak of a mouse, but whenever she opened her mouth to scent, there was only the fresh, dry taste of snow and wood. She doubted she would be able to catch anything here anyway; the trees grew too thick and the snow was too deep. Back in the city, she was an expert hunter, adept at lingering in the shadows and navigating the twisting alleys. Here, her confidence had evaporated into thin air. The cloak of security she wore had completely vanished.

She thought about Beck's words, about how Alder would never love her back, and immediately wished that she hadn't. Those words were so obviously, blatantly, _horribly _false – Chantelle couldn't believe that she still cared what he said. Beck knew Alder better than anyone – except her – but it didn't mean anything. Alder wouldn't share his feelings with his _guard_; that would be ridiculous.

Glancing back up, she saw the two of them chatting idly as they walked. Alder seemed at ease, and Beck had relaxed in what was a significant manner for him. The golden tom was still looking around, his ears pricked and his shoulders tensed, but he was content to listen to Alder and mutter the occasional reply.

Then, without warning, the bushes ahead of them parted and out stepped four cats, fur bristling and lips pulled back into snarls. They were all large and intimidating, save for the fourth, a tiny she-cat who hid behind the legs of the cat beside her, a lean tom with ragged fur. Beside him stood another lithe tom, this time a light brown tabby with hard eyes. But it was the cat at the front that really stood out. He was huge, with dark grey fur, a white underbelly, and sharp yellow eyes.

"Hi," said Alder calmly. He stood beside Beck, who was doing his best to look relaxed. Chantelle had seen Beck like this before. One moment, he was calm and unthreatening. The next, he was tearing out your throat. The cat Baron had sent to kill Alder on that night had learned that lesson all too well. The memories made Chantelle flinch. The sound of thunder cracked in her head, the patter of the rain hitting the pavement, the cries of Baron's followers...

"Who are you?" asked the light brown tabby, stepping forward. His fur was bristling and he looked more unfriendly than the rest of them put together. "What are you doing on ThunderClan territory?"

Alder's eyes flickered back to Chantelle for a fraction of second. Then he swallowed and turned back to the ThunderClan warriors. "We're here seeking shelter. My mate lost her kits and the cold is so harsh. There's no prey anywhere. Please, we'd like to talk to your leader."

The tabby narrowed his eyes and gestured to Beck with his tail. "And who is this?"

"My brother," said Alder. The words were so fluid from his mouth; there was no trace of hesitation, no indication whatsoever that he was lying. "Your leader. Please."

"I say we let them have a word with Slatestar," said the tom behind him, the light grey one with the feathery fur. His eyes were mild. "Beechclaw..."

The brown tabby – Beechclaw – was still staring at them with obvious mistrust. Eventually, he let out a snort of contempt and turned away. "They're all yours, Slatestar."

Chantelle was confused until the dark grey tabby stepped forward. His yellow eyes had gentled, though they still burned with a fierce curiosity. When he spoke, his voice was honest but firm. "Lucky for you three, I'm right here. Tell me about your plight. Why should I take you in when I have so many of my own mouths to feed?"

Alder and Beck exchanged glances. "We can hunt and fight," said Alder calmly. He commanded respect, yet not by brute force or threatening words. Respectful and passive, he rarely let glimpses of his true self show. Chantelle had seen his core once or twice, and it was more beautiful than she had ever imagined. Her eyes drifted over his body until she slowly became aware that he was still talking. "Beck, my brother, is a natural fighter. He would be good to have around. We won't cause any trouble, I promise. My mate, Chantelle, is tired, and every since the kits died... she hasn't been the same. She needs food and rest. Like I said, it would only be for a few moons, and it would mean so much to us. Please. We'll repay you as best we can."

Slatestar was silent. His gaze swept over them, piercing, neutral. Chantelle wondered if he could see through the lie. The Tribe had promised that ThunderClan had no supernatural powers, but she didn't quite believe them. After all, the Clans still believed their ancestors were watching over them, and anything to do with spirits sent prickles down her spine.

Eventually, the grey tom dipped his head. "Beck, Chantelle...is this your wish as well?"

"Yes," said Chantelle in a frail voice. Beck nodded.

"Slatestar, you can't be serious!" the light brown tabby, Beechclaw, cried out. "We don't even know them. Think about the kits!"

"No harm will come to your kits, Beechclaw," said Slatestar, voice soft but firm. "These guests will not be left unsupervised. But the Clans have been at peace for too long, and I feel something stirring. It wouldn't be wise to turn away any help. We can use all the extra paws we can get."

"Thank you," murmured Alder. His voice was smooth and nonthreatening. Chantelle had only seen him truly angry once before – not counting the flashes of temper when she mentioned his father or Baron – and it had scared her. Alder was not made of fire like the rest of them, not made of warm flesh or muscle. He was made of water, as tranquil as a pond, and when he was truly upset, he was ice.

The memory crossed her mind and she banished it immediately. That was a bad memory. That had been before. Chantelle swallowed, feeling a lump in her throat. If only she could get rid of it. After all, everything was different now...wasn't it?

"Don't thank me yet," said Slatestar softly. "I'll want to speak with you more first. But in the meantime, you've earned the right to come back to camp with us. Beechclaw, Owlfeather, escort them. Mousepaw, I want you to run ahead to Nettleclaw. Let him know what's going on."

The she-cat nodded and took off. Owlfeather and Beechclaw fell into positions around them, encircling the loners. The two groups had even numbers, but despite Beck's fighting prowess, Chantelle knew they couldn't overpower the ThunderClan cats if they tried. Slatestar was a force by himself, and the two warriors had the lean, hard builds of forest cats.

Alder dropped back to walk beside her once more. "Nervous?" he asked.

She searched his eyes for any signs of the bright emotion she craved from him, but there was only gentle curiosity. Chantelle hesitated before shaking her head. "Of course not."

"Really?" His words had an air of subdued surprise. "I rather feel like we're walking into the lion's den. Don't trust these cats, Chantelle, not even for a second."

.

Chantelle was finding it easy to obey Alder's words as she sat at the edge of ThunderClan camp. Alder was inside Slatestar's den, discussing their situation with the dark grey tabby, but she and Beck were being kept outside, guarded by the same warriors from earlier.

It was warmer in the ThunderClan camp, guarded as they were by the looming rock walls, but Chantelle was still shivering, her breath hanging like mist in the air in front of her. The dens around her were laced with frost, and under her paws was a thick layer of snow, pressed down against the earth by countless pawsteps. She felt another tremor go through her, more violent than the others, and her teeth began to chatter.

"Cold?" said a friendly voice. Chantelle looked up, surprised. Neither one of her guards had moved, or even glanced at her, so it couldn't have been them. She looked to the side and saw a golden-brown tabby heading toward her. He was larger than her escorts, with broad shoulders, though his soft face and grinning green eyes gave away his age. She put him at a few months younger than she was, though she couldn't be sure.

"No," she said stiffly. To her surprise, her visitor just twitched his whiskers in amusement.

"If you're going to join the Clan, you don't have to pretend to be strong," he mewed. "We all look out for each other here. That's how it goes."

"She's not going to _join the Clan_, Elmheart," interjected Beechclaw stiffly. "They're just staying for a moon, and that's _if_ Slatestar allows them."

The golden-brown tom – Elmheart – ignored him, still speaking to Chantelle. "I heard you lost your kits. That must have been hard for you. I'm sorry."

"What do you know about loss?" she asked him, though not as harshly as she might have. While the story about losing her kits was a lie, Chantelle still felt a pang of sorrow when she thought about her home in the city. She had given up everything for something she could never have, and the bitterness sank into her.

He looked surprised. "More than I should, at my age," Elmheart admitted.

"Elmheart!" snapped Beechclaw, growing exasperated. "Will you stop chatting with her! Be loyal to your Clan. Just because Slatestar has allowed her in camp doesn't mean that you have to be her friend."

Chantelle thought of Alder's words: don't trust any of them. She didn't, not really. The black she-cat had been hurt before, and she had learned her lesson. But part of her wanted to trust Elmheart. He seemed kind, and besides, it would be useful to have an ally in the Clan. Alder couldn't fault her that, not if it was strategy.

The golden tabby grimaced. "Seems like I'm being ordered to leave you," he mewed, but even as the words left his mouth, his green eyes glowed with humour. Yet Chantelle – practiced from trying to discern things in Alder's eyes – noticed a weariness in his gaze, a sadness that lurked at the edges, distant but yet so present. The clarity of the emotion made her flinch.

As Elmheart turned and left, Chantelle thought about what she had seen. There had been no wall in his eyes, no attempt to hide his feelings from the rest of the world. It was different, and while it was a weakness on his part, Chantelle found it interesting.

Slatestar's voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and she turned to see the tom standing on the ledge overlooking camp, Alder by his side. Then ThunderClan's leader called her name and she found herself padding toward him, realizing that at this moment, everything was about to change.

**x x x**

Kitetail tried to dribble water down Dawnpaw's throat. He placed the drenched scrap of moss in her mouth, hoping some natural instinct would cause her to suck the water from it. But there was no change in her condition, and for what seemed like the thousandth time, her mouth remained still. It frustrated Kitetail beyond measure. He was supposed to be their medicine cat, but this was his first major task, and he couldn't do anything about it. If Dawnpaw didn't eat or drink, she was in danger of wasting away. But he couldn't nourish her, couldn't wake her up, couldn't explain what had happened to the rest of the Clan.

It weighed on him.

The she-cat lay spread out in her nest, chest rising slowly and feebly. Her breathing had slowed remarkably, and Kitetail assumed her whole body was slowing down to save energy. It was lucky in that it gave her more time to live, but he didn't know what would happen if she stayed like this for too long. Would her systems eventually shut down? Would she be trapped in a permanent state of sleep?

"How is she?" Slatestar appeared at the entrance to his den, concern in his eyes.

"The same as before," mewed Kitetail, hoping he didn't sound too frustrated. "I don't know what to do, Slatestar." The leader had always been fair to him, even kind, and Kitetail felt comfortable expressing his doubt to the tom. He was the only cat in ThunderClan that Kitetail truly trusted, except for Dawnpaw. For some inexplicable reason, she had always been kind to him, striving to make sure he was always comfortable. Now, however, that kindness was lost.

"Has Birchcloud ever seen anything like this?" asked Slatestar.

Kitetail shook his head. "I haven't gotten a chance to talk to him yet. I mean, I saw him, and I told him what had happened...but he was busy. He promised to get back to me soon." The brown tabby missed Birchcloud so badly it hurt. He thought of the medicine cat as his true father, the one who had cared for him no matter what, who had protected him from Falconswoop, who had only encouraged his dreams. Now it seemed as though they were drifting apart. The grey tabby had told him that he needed to find his own way as a medicine cat. He was part of ThunderClan now, and there could be no more tethers.

Slatestar sighed. "I don't want to act like Dawnpaw's safety is not of importance, but I was hoping we could talk about something else."

"The loners?" Kitetail said. It was barely a question.

"Yes," said the dark grey tom. "I was wondering if StarClan had sent you a sign about them. I wonder if our ancestors guided them our way, if they're meant to be here."

Kitetail's dreams had been confusing at best. Sleeping beside the Moonpool, he had caught glimpses of StarClan, odd grey eyes and whispered words. _The lake will run red._ But it seemed like they were hesitant to tell him more. "No," he told Slatestar at last. "Nothing about the loners."

"You'll tell me if something does come up, right?" asked Slatestar. The medicine cat wondered if his leader was anxious. He had never seen Slatestar worried before, and he had always dreaded the day he would. Yet the tom was doing a good job of holding his composure now, so Kitetail let the thought drop.

"Of course," he promised. The dark brown tabby was unnerved by the loners, though he couldn't say why. There was more to them than met the eye, of that he was certain.

"Good," said Slatestar, and left. That was the way the tom was: no ceremony. Kitetail had learned a few things about Slatestar during his time in ThunderClan. His leader was quiet, firm, powerful, and more than anything, liked to be left alone.

He had learned something else too, Kitetail remembered as he watched the tom's tail disappear behind the ice-encrusted ferns. Something that had come to him in bits and pieces from the others, something that Kitetail would never repeat. Family problems were family problems. He knew that better than anyone, and he knew to leave them alone.

"Kitetail." Thickfur was in the den now. He was shorter than his father, with a bulkier build, but his gaze was the same. His amber eyes glanced down at Dawnpaw and then back up at the medicine cat.

The dark brown tabby narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Yes?" He knew Thickfur came to visit Dawnpaw often, but the grey tabby usually waited until Kitetail wasn't there to intrude. It perplexed the medicine cat – it wasn't often that he saw Thickfur caring about another cat. He also knew that Thickfur would never have showed that level of emotion if Dawnpaw was awake. The she-cat had told him all sorts of stories about her mentor's cruelty, though Kitetail always got the feeling that part of her was genuinely fond of the gruff grey tom.

"Don't let the loners in here," said Thickfur. "I don't care if they've stepped on a thorn or if they've been mauled by a badger. Treat them somewhere else. I don't want any of them near her. _Ever_."

Kitetail blinked. "You don't think...?"

"All I know is that she can't defend herself." The warrior's voice was stone. "And I can't always be around to look out for her. So don't let any of them in." Thickfur ground out the words, and once he was certain that Kitetail understood him, he turned and swept out of the den.

Kitetail slumped backwards, suddenly exhausted. Everything was so confusing, and he wondered if there was a reason it was so close together. The loners. Dawnpaw's mysterious illness. The feeling of dread within him whenever he caught WindClan's scent.

Something was going to happen, and soon.

_The lake will run red._

Grey eyes.

**X X X X X X X**

**A/N: **So, this was mainly a Point A to Point B chapter. That being said, we get some more info from Chantelle, as well as some more characterization on Alder's part. He and Beck are turning out to be a lot different than I initially intended when I plotted this months ago, which is undoubtedly a great thing.

Please forgive me for the crap that I liked to call prose. This chapter had so many awkward phrases, it was ridiculous. On the bright side, Kitetail! He's settling in, definitely a bit older, but it's still nerve-wracking for him. We haven't really had the chance to see him interact with other ThunderClan cats, so I'll try to remedy that in the future.

Next chapter has a brief flash to Fogpaw as well as a surprise POV, which will feature heavily throughout the rest of the story. I'm writing it almost as I type this, and I'm a bit alarmed by the lack of dialogue, so expect an overcompensation of boring conversations throughout. Just kidding, mostly.

**frostfeather:** I like how you phrased that, the bad things that come out at night. That has a real chill to it. I'm glad you found the chapter cool, and that you're sympathizing with Dawnpaw.

**Coqui's Song:** Hey now, _Pawn_ was pretty dark! Well, mostly with the Branchpaw stuff. That being said, yeah, this one is going to be a whole lot darker for Dawnpaw. Lecturing about the benefits of love won't help her now. As to your other question, I love Thickfur, so I would never just kill him off unduly. That being said, you know what authors do with characters that they love - they torture them, strip their happiness away, kill them off brutally... I may just be messing with you. Or not.

**Blackish:** First off, Shredtail and Worm. I chose Shred for a couple of reasons. Yes, his name is cool and so is the whole "spaghetti tail", but he has a few good lines in the books which I believe give him more depth than some of the other Dark Forest cats who are just like "kill, kill, evil, evil." He definitely has some mood swings; he's trying to help Dawnpaw and be nice to her, but he's not the most patient of cats, and he doesn't really have much experience saving lost apprentices from evil spirits.

Worm is...he's complicated. The whole "I just wanted a taste" thing, yeah, seems a bit comically odd, but...it's hard to explain. There's a reason his name is Worm; he's a coward, he's sulky and resentful, but there will hopefully be moments where the audience can almost feel bad for him. I plan to do something with him relevant to the plot, as opposed to just throwing him in as a "cool creepy character."

You're probably right about me rushing on the Thickfur thing. Having thought about it now, though, I've realized that he's aware he can't forget about his memories like he wants, and is angry about that. That's about the depth of his introspection on that issue.

**ScourgexScarlet:** Oh, like I was wondering what your FFN name means :3

**Juniperleaf of BlazeClan:** I hope it wasn't too confusing! Yeah, Dawnpaw was pretty disoriented. Her next POV should clear a few things up, though, and give her situation a more solid feel. Ciao!

**The Last Clan:** Shredtail is very suspicious. Don't trust him. Except trust him more than anyone else you would meet in the Dark Forest. It's a difficult line to draw.

**Kartlin:** Sometimes I have to sacrifice the happiness of the readers for the sake of the plot. That being said, I've promised to resolve everybody's emotions by the end of the trilogy.

If any of my review replies are lame, I apologize. I'm super-tired right now, but I need to finish this chapter's note so I can put it up when I get home tomorrow. My plan to always have pre-written chapters has completely failed. Look for the next one on Monday evening!

I love you guys, as always.

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	8. Chapter Six

**CHAPTER SIX**

Russet kept his chin up as he squared off with the black-and-white tom. The two circled each other, keeping their distance, muscles tense and claws extended. His opponent was hefty, with thick limbs and a short neck. Cruelty shone in his olive eyes, but it was a dull sort of malice, empty of cunning. The tom was big, bulky, and _mean_, but he was not intelligent, and from the slowness of his movements, it seemed he wasn't agile either.

This was going to be an easy fight.

Russet let his opponent strike out first. He ducked underneath the tom's outstretched paws as they sliced through the air and then leapt, landing on his front paws and pivoting so that his hind legs kicked into the air. The black-and-white tom threw himself backward to avoid the blows. Russet spun, landed on his back paws, and leapt forward again, this time aiming for his opponent's shoulders. He knocked the larger tom down, and they both fell to the ground, legs tangled together.

He heard the jeers of other cats as they watched, laughing at his position. A surge of anger went through him and he reared up, only to crash down on his opponent with all his weight. The black-and-white tom flailed, trying to rake Russet's belly with his forepaws, but his strikes fell short. Russet maintained the pressure, and eventually, the other tom gave in.

"Nicely done!" crowed a familiar voice. Russet turned to see Baron striding toward him. His pale amber eyes wandered around the assembled cats, never pausing, not missing a thing. There was a strange softness to his gaze that made Russet shudder; Baron's eyes were pallid, with just the hint of a sneer.

Russet mumbled a thanks, moving off of his opponent's chest. The black-and-white tom sat up, spitting snow from his mouth as he moved. When he realized that Baron was watching him, he quickly scrambled to his paws, awaiting his leader's judgement.

"That was pitiful, Tanner," said Baron, his words made of ice. "You're disgusting. Get out of here, you're hurting my eyes."

Tanner grudgingly stumbled off. Russet sighed, relaxing as his opponent left the ring. Now it was just him and Baron, surrounded by the other rogues, who had all fallen silent. The sparring circle usually rang with the cries of cats who were waiting for their turn, but when Baron was around, it was better to be silent. It was that or lose your tongue.

The rogues came in all shapes and sizes, from slender she-cats to hulking toms. There was a short tabby tom who reminded him of Oaktail, and a beautiful she-cat who could have been Lilypaw's sister, were it not for the story she had told him of how she had murdered her parents. Yet despite all their differences, they all had the same feel – they were fighters. Baron's cats were muscular and mean, and most of them had pelts criss-crossed by scars.

There weren't too many of them here; most were back in the city, under the watchful eyes of Baron's second-in-commands Needle and Zephyr. But Baron had decided to lead a group of his cats over the mountains, and Russet had come along for the ride. There had been some explanation of what they were searching for, but most of them did not know, and none of them wanted to ask Baron.

Russet turned his attention back to Baron. "Walk with me," commanded the tom. Without checking to see if Russet was following, he strode out of the circle. Russet hesitated a moment before leaping to keep up. Cats moved aside to let them pass, and he heard them murmuring as he walked by. Were they talking about him? Some didn't trust him, he knew, but they all respected his abilities.

Respected, and feared.

After leaving RiverClan, Russet had fled to the collection of Twoleg nests known as a city. There, he had lived off of scraps, fighting off alley cats, until Baron's group had found him. Impressed by his fighting skills, Baron had invited him to join his band. He had been with them for about a moon now, though he still felt like an outsider.

They were walking through a field. The sparring circle had been placed inside a grove of stout elms, their spreading canopies providing shelter from the heavy snowfall. Beyond them lay Twoleg farmland, covered in thick layers of snow and ice.

"I lied," said Baron, as they walked, carefully picking his way through the large white drifts. "That wasn't nicely done at all. Tanner is strong, but he's stupid. A kit could have outsmarted him."

Russet mumbled an acknowledgement, eyes averted – as ever – from Baron's pale gaze. The tom was of medium build, with hard muscles and thick reddish-brown fur. He walked as if he owned the world, the air of confidence around him nearly tangible. The others followed his every command, and it was easy to understand why. Baron was _scary_, to put it bluntly.

"Russet, do you understand how succession works here?" asked Baron. His voice seemed idle, but Russet knew that he never said anything without reason.

"By family, right?" he mewed.

Baron nodded. "My son will be leader after me. At least, he should be. But there is a thorn in his paw, so to speak. An obstacle which will forever threaten his succession, unless we remove it. A cat who will stop at nothing to dethrone me."

Russet narrowed his eyes. He had seen Baron's oldest son, a hefty brown tabby with his father's light amber eyes. Shaw was a miniature version of his father, though with slightly less subtly. He couldn't imagine anyone taking his throne once he was old enough to claim it. "Why are you telling me this?"

The sounds of the training hollow faded away. They were in the middle of the field now, surrounded by open air. A cold wind blew over the snow, but Russet didn't flinch. Though he was chilled to the bone, he had to keep on a strong face for Baron. The reddish-brown tom could sense fear easily, and Russet was determined not to show weakness. Never again, he thought. Never again.

Baron continued on like he hadn't heard the ginger tabby speak. "My current second-in-command, Needle...he's a strong cat, very smart, but I don't think he'll do what it takes in order to ensure my son's safety. When I took control of this band of rogues, he immediately betrayed his former leader to come to my aid. I can't trust a cat like that. I need a second-in-command that I know will never turn on me. That's where you come in, Russet. We have the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone."

"Keep talking," said Russet slowly. He knew he was a great fighter, stronger than most of the rogues despite his age. At seventeen moons, he was younger than most of the them, but the formal training he had received from RiverClan gave him the advantage. Despite that, he hadn't been expecting such an offer from Baron. After all, he was new to the band.

The side of Baron's mouth twisted a slight smirk. "Take out this threat for me and ensure my son's safety as heir. I'll grant you the position of second-in-command."

"Sounds easy enough," said Russet. Finally, an explanation. Baron had kept most of them in the dark for so long. New territory, he had said. They were to move out of the city and find a more prosperous home. But Russet had guessed that it was more than that. Now he knew that he was right. "Where do we find this cat?"

"By the lake," said Baron, twisting his head to look at the giant mountains rising behind them. "Just like the Tribe cats said."

.

As they walked back to their temporary camp, Russet tried not to think about RiverClan. But the germ of the thought had entered his mind, and the rest sprang unbidden from his memory. He was better off without them – they were weak and cowardly – but he always felt a surge of anger when he thought of them. Russet had been trying to save them all, to protect them from Falconswoop. The ShadowClan deputy would have destroyed his Clan and all the cats he loved. Russet had made a deal in order to save them.

In return, they had exiled him. It had been Toadstripe, cold and unfeeling. _I did it for her_, he had wanted to scream. It infuriated him. He had lost everything trying to save his Clan. Russet ground his teeth. At least here, Baron appreciated him. He was going to become the second-in-command, both respected and feared. He would have a new life, where his skills would be useful. There would be no Toadstripe, no voice whispering that strength isn't everything, no Lilypaw to provoke those strange emotions that would only distract him.

They reached camp. It wasn't much to look at, merely a stack of rough grey rocks piled by a shallow pond. Bramble bushes provided shelter from the snow, and a fresh-kill pile had been started by a mossy stump. After being dismissed by Baron, the ginger tabby headed toward the pile of prey, his stomach growling. Russet picked a scrawny mouse from the top of the pile and chose a relatively dry spot to eat it, seating himself down at the base of a towering oak tree.

Almost immediately, his dream from last night flashed into his mind. He had been bringing a mouse back to RiverClan, eagerly barging through the reeds. Lilypaw had met him, except she was a warrior now, a queen, and by her side had been a beautiful ginger she-kit, with bright green eyes and a sunny expression. The kit had called his name – Russet_heart_, because he was a warrior too – and they had been a family together.

It would have all come true, if it hadn't been for Sootpaw. He had come in and stolen Lilypaw from Russet. Not only that, but he had planted seeds of doubt in Toadstripe's mind. If Sootpaw had never sought shelter in RiverClan, everything would be different.

Russet tore at the mouse in his paws, viciously ripping it apart. He pretend that it was Sootpaw, that he was killing the ShadowClan tom, that fresh, hot blood was seeping out over his paws.

"What did that mouse ever do to you?" Russet looked up to a see a broad-shouldered cream tom standing over him, a grin covering his face. His blue eyes were dancing with humour. It was Flynn, one of Baron's primary lieutenants. The cream rogue was handsome and charming, and he had half the she-cats in camp falling over him. In fact, a good portion of the kits back at the city were probably his.

"Nothing," he grumbled, suddenly no longer hungry. Russet cast the mouse aside, staring up at Flynn. He was of mixed opinions about the dashing tom. Flynn was always cheerful, but Russet had seen him in fights. Flynn was still grinning even as he tore out his opponent's throat.

Russet shuddered in a mixture of fear and awe. He wanted to be strong like that - would have given _anything_ to be strong like that - but he wasn't sure if he could ever be that heartless. He longed for the chance to try, to tear out another's throat, to be as ruthless as Flynn, but wasn't sure what it would make him afterwards.

"Baron sent Carrionpaw and I over to talk to you about this cat he's looking for," Flynn explained, looking over his shoulder. Carrionpaw was coming toward them, looking as unpleasant as usual. With his mangy dark brown fur and scrawny build, he was Flynn's opposite in appearance. Their personalities were also as different as night and day, but they were both just as ruthless. It was no wonder Baron had chosen them as his lieutenants.

"Did Flynn tell you why we're here?" asked Carrionpaw. The rumour was that his parents were originally Clan cats, so he had chosen his name to mock them. At fifty moons, he was older than both Flynn and Baron, yet Russet kept thinking of him as an apprentice. It was strange that a cat with an apprentice name had such an important position.

"To tell me about the cat who is a threat to Baron's son," muttered Russet. A sudden rush of boldness overtook him. "That's why we've been travelling this way, isn't it? Baron wants us to hunt this cat, not just find new territory."

Flynn and Carrionpaw exchanged glances. "Politics are complicated," said Flynn softly. "Under the old leadership, the band was weak. Baron saw an opportunity to make it stronger; I'm sure you understand. He got rid of the old leader, but the son escaped. Until we make sure that the son is dead, Baron's leadership will never be entirely secure."

Russet understood. He knew what it was to care about something so much that it was painful to see just how weak it was. Baron was a good leader; back in the city, his rogues were strong, controlling more territory than they ever had before. He wasn't kind, but he was effective. Any further power struggles would only serve to weaken the band of rogues.

"His name is Alder," barked Carrionpaw. He was short-tempered and he seemed to be perpetually glaring. Words came unbidden to Russet's mind: _if you keep sneering, your face will freeze like that_. His mother wouldn't have liked Carrionpaw very much.

Flynn nodded. "He's more dangerous than he seems. That's why it's so important we find him and kill him. The Tribe said he was heading to the Clans. Maybe he thinks he's escaped from us. He never will."

"The Clans?" asked Russet. He had been too nervous to ask Baron earlier, but this was Flynn, and so he cautiously inquired: "What happens if any of the Clan cats get in our way?"

Flynn shrugged. "We kill them too. This is about protecting the band. We have a responsibility to ensure the safety of Baron's regime. Stability is good."

_We kill them too. _He could do that, no problem. The Clans were weak, and he was a rogue now, a loyal fighter in Baron's service. He could become a second-in-command, too. His future lay with these cats. With Baron and Shaw, Flynn and Carrionpaw, even with Tanner.

"Understand?" asked Carrionpaw.

Russet nodded. "It won't be a problem."

.

Russet stared at himself in the pond, wondering how he could look so similar and yet so completely different at the same time. He had grown since he left RiverClan, his muscles hardening and his body filling out. He was taller, too, towering about most of the other rogues. His fur was the same burnished ginger, his eyes the same spruce green, but he felt different. Maybe it was in the way he stood. Maybe it was because every time he looked at himself, he knew he was no longer Russetpaw.

_They were weak_, he reminded himself, and while he knew it was true, he wondered if being weak was really such a bad thing.

**x x x**

Fogpaw woke up with a killer headache. She looked around, disoriented, her vision dotted with black and fuzzy around the edges. As her senses returned to her, the she-cat realized she was in a small, dark den. In front of her, the ground sloped abruptly upward. From the top of the tunnel, she could see a small circle of light.

She was underground.

Immediately, her chest began to constrict. Fogpaw tried to take deep breaths, but her throat was tightening, and suddenly it was hard to breathe. She gasped, scared beyond belief, and forced herself to breathe slowly. Eventually, the air began to return to her lungs. A hysterical sob escaped her, and Fogpaw immediately clammed up. She didn't cry.

"Help me!" she called out, but her voice sounded small and frail in this makeshift prison. It must have taken them a long time to build it, she realized. Opening her mouth to scent, Fogpaw confirmed what she had guessed – she was in WindClan camp. She could smell the musk of rabbits and the dry, spicy scent of heather, but overwhelming her senses was the dark scent. It was even stronger here, acrid and rancid, burning her scent glands.

"Help!" Fogpaw called again, scrabbling at the dirt in front of her. The slope was too steep for her to climb, and she wondered how she would ever get out. She would try later, the grey she-cat promised herself. She had been in tight spots before, and she knew how to climb. The RiverClan apprentice was the expert on getting out of sticky situations. This was no different.

She just needed rest.

"Relax," said a voice. A paw's worth of poppy seeds fell from the top of the tunnel and landed, scattered, around her. Fogpaw lapped them up gratefully, too confused to care who was helping her. A few moments later, she felt sleep begin to overtake her once more, and she fell into it, letting out a sigh of relief as the blackness stole away her pain.

She did not dream.

.

When she woke up, she was back in her den, but there were two other cats with her. One was a lean white tom, his face cold. The other was a muscular grey she-cat whom Fogpaw recognized as Willowstar. Her stomach lurched. Why was WindClan's leader down here? What did she want? What was wrong with WindClan? The two warriors were staring at her, their gazes hard and unfriendly. Fogpaw tried to take a step backward, but she just bumped into the back wall of the den.

Willowstar gestured to the white tom. "Hold her down," she commanded.

Before Fogpaw could react, there were paws on her back, forcing her into the dirt. Soil filled her mouth and she spat it out. "Piece of fox-dung!" she yowled, until the white tom forced her head down further.

"Ready to behave?" asked Willowstar.

_Never_. Fogpaw kept silent, trying to ignore the pain lancing through her. Her head was pounding, her stomach was churning, and now her limbs were starting to protest against being shoved into the ground. When the WindClan tom let her lift her head again, she spat at Willowstar's feet. "Chew on that!"

The white warrior looked like he was ready to strike her, but Willowstar shook her head. "Just keep her down," she mewed softly. There was a sweetness to her voice that made Fogpaw's pelt crawl. Her words were fluid and perfumed, and there was something about them that was just _wrong_.

Pinned against the ground, Fogpaw found herself unable to struggle. Fear blossomed in her chest and she desperately tried to pull away as Willowstar leaned toward her. But the pressure on her shoulder-blades was overpowering, and she could do nothing to stop the WindClan leader from advancing.

Willowstar pressed her muzzle to Fogpaw's forehead and the pain that followed, shooting through her body, was unbelievable. Fogpaw cried out desperately, blinded by the shock. Fire and ice were coursing through her veins, burning, stinging, shattering. She screamed until her throat was sore, until the only thing that could escape her muzzle was a ragged gasp. Then she screamed some more.

**X X X X X X X X**

**A/N:** Today's chapter was brought to you by Mumford & Sons! Their song, "Little Lion Man", is what I'm listening to at the moment, and it definitely reminds me of Russet. Yes, that's right. Russet is back in the game! After his exile at the end of PotS, he was down but not out. Anyway, Russet is starting to realize that these rogues are a bit more dangerous than he first assumed.

Also, I'm seriously loving Fogpaw. She's definitely a lot more feisty and stubborn than Dawnpaw. Any guesses as to what will happen to her? As a side note, I didn't mean for her scene to be so dark, but that's the way the world turns!

Five reviews? Eh. I guess I can't really complain. But if you're not reviewing because you're losing interest in the story, _please_ let me know so I can try to spice it up again. Tell me what you'd like to see more of. (Yeah, that ended in a preposition. Whatever.)

**KittyKat8888**: I talk about naming the loners in another reply a few paragraphs down. As for Dawnpaw, the whole "dawn" thing is very symbolic. She's soft, she's warm, she's young. It's a very idealistic name for an idealistic cat. Sootclaw - the "soot" can refer to how his mind is cloud; he had to pick between love and power, and sometimes he still wonders if he made the right decision. It also sounds like snooty, which describes him perfectly. Thickfur is a very plain name. It indicates that everything is on the surface, that there is no complicated, and also that he is tough/rugged. As for Falconswoop and Kitetail, they are both birds of prey. It's a connection between them that can't be denied, even if Kitetail wants to forget all about his father.

Good call on the Branchclaw thing, by the way. He'll actually make an appearance soon!

**ScourgexScarlet**: Thickfur would prefer to think of it as being defensive, not going overboard XD Nice observations, though.

**Thistlethorn of Shadowclan:** Chantelle has her name because it's feminine and it's prissy, as she wants to get special treatment and she wants to be a queen. It's more fancy than it should be. Alder is a very neutral name, and it doesn't give much away, just like the tom himself. As for Beck, it's very short, very simple.

**Hannah- Queen of Rawring:** Sootclaw has a huge thing for Lilystream, but it doesn't mean he doesn't care about Dawnpaw! Shame on you for being busy, though; you should always just be in front of your computer reading my story :D I'm mostly kidding.

**frostfeather:** Well, hopefully this will clarify what's going on with the loners! Also, Slatestar had his reasons: first of all, as he said, he's growing suspicious of WindClan and wants extra fighters. Also, he was hoping there would be a sign from StarClan about them. Whatever the case, they'll have to earn their keep.

_Weep for yourself, my man, y__ou'll never be what is in your heart_  
><em>Weep little lion man,<em> y_ou're not as brave as you were at the start_

Tell me how it felt to see Russetpaw again! Do you like him more now that you have his POV?

Next chapter is Sootclaw. It will feature both Lilystream and Thickfur!

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	9. Chapter Seven

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

There was something serene about ShadowClan territory at night. Thick brown pines grew in ranks, their grey-green needles soft and slender. Snow fell gently through the dark sky, powdery flakes drifting lazily through the air. Bright moonlight, reflected off the pale ground, illuminated the undergrowth. The air was filled with the sharp scent of pines and the musky scent of the marsh, and the forest was silent save for the occasional call of a wandering owl, high-pitched and filled with longing.

Sootclaw made his way through the woods, unbothered by the cold. Snow dotted his pelt and muzzle, and his amber eyes glittered in the moonlight. The air was still, with no biting wind to nip at his skin. He revelled in the calmness of it all; the mild night reminded him of Dawnpaw, with her tenderness and patience. From somewhere far behind him, the owl hooted again, its voice echoing through the empty sky. It sounded lonely, and for some inexplicable reason, the thought made Sootclaw sad.

Everything was different now. He was alone in his mind, in his body, with only the constant ache to remind him that Dawnpaw had once been there. Nights like this were bittersweet now. He wished he could share them with her, and Sootclaw found himself constantly wondering if she was looking up at the sky as well. Emotion coursed through him and suddenly the pain was strong again. Sootclaw held back a sob and forced the ache to die down again, reducing it to a dull throb. He had learned to put the pain away, to forget about her, to distract himself with his duties. But Dawnpaw was gone.

It had been seven days since her disappearance, and he couldn't find her.

The ground sloped beneath his paws. Sootclaw followed it down toward the lake. Ice covered the shallow waters near the shore, but toward the middle was an expanse of shining black water. Stars glittered off its still surface. Tonight was so beautiful, it could have been perfect. The corner of his mouth twitched with the thought. _Almost_, he thought ruefully. He should have known that balancing two she-cats couldn't have lasted forever.

Sootclaw's feet brought him to the RiverClan border. The Twoleg halfbridge rose before him and he scrambled underneath it, trying to avoid slipping on the ice as the ground disappeared from underneath his paws. Then he was on the RiverClan side, and there was solid earth underneath his paws once more.

RiverClan was just as beautiful at night, if different from the forest. Reeds stretched out in front of him, and beyond them were grassy knolls and large grey stones interspersed with the bracken. Everything was open, the only trees spread-out and small. The salty scent of fish was heavy and thick in his mouth, but Sootclaw had gotten used to it during his nightly meetings.

The reeds across from him rustled and Lilystream stepped out. She was just as beautiful as he remembered, slender, with sleek grey fur and beautiful amber eyes. Her face was small, with elegant features and a long, graceful neck. She had grown since her apprentice days, becoming longer and more fluid, turning from a pretty apprentice into a beautiful queen.

Then it hit him. Slender?

"Lilystream!" he gasped, rushing toward her, burying his muzzle into her neck. After reassuring himself that she was real, Sootclaw stepped backward, confusion and panic churning in his chest. "But...where are they? What happened? Why are they gone? Are you alright?"

A purr began to vibrate deep within her. Lilystream met his gaze, her eyes filled with laughter. "Sootclaw," she said, and his name was so beautiful in her voice. "It's okay. Nothing's happened to them. They've just been born, that's all."

"Been...born?" he repeated, stunned. His kits had been born. They were born! Part of him felt like crying out in joy. He was ecstatic beyond belief, exalted, so tremulously, beautifully high. He was a father! His kits might be in another Clan, it was true, but no matter what happened, he was determined to be a better father than Falconswoop.

He would always love them.

Lilystream nodded and pressed herself against him. Sootclaw purred as he felt her body warm against his. He swept his tail over her flank protectively and placed his chin on the top of her head. Lilystream felt _right_ against him, her body fitting perfectly against his. She made him feel like a warrior, like he was strong, muscular, intelligent, brave. He had felt guilty hiding this from Dawnpaw, but he didn't want to share these feelings with anyone.

She pulled back to look at him. The love in her expression sent shivers through him, and Sootclaw leaned forward to draw his tongue across her cheek as she spoke. "I haven't named them yet," mewed the she-cat softly. "I was thinking we could do that together, now. They're not old enough to visit yet, but I'll bring them soon."

"I'd like that," Sootclaw told her, and he had never meant anything half as much as he meant that now. He remembered the way she had made him feel as an apprentice, like he was normal. She had teased him, trained him, shared tongues with him, and had truly listened to him. All his life, he had wanted to be the very best. But with Lilystream, he could be normal, himself.

"There's two toms and a she-cat," she mewed. "One of the toms has already opened his eyes. They're the same shade of amber as yours. He has a white pelt, and already I can tell that he's going to be big. I was thinking Icekit, if that's okay, because he was born during leafbare."

Sootclaw purred. "Icekit fits," he mewed, trying to visualize the kit in his mind. It was a good name, strong and fierce. _I'll love him even if he isn't a fighter_, he promised, _even if he isn't as fierce as __his name._

Lilystream paused for a second before continuing in a hesitant voice. "The other tom...he looks like how you described your mother, with light brown fur and long legs. Very slender. I thought maybe..."

"Cricketkit," said Sootclaw automatically. There was no question about it. He wanted to preserve the memory of his mother, and this was the ultimate gift he could give her. He wondered if Kitetail would know, the first time that he saw Cricketkit at a Gathering. _Will you know what I've done?_ Would his brother be angry at him? Sootclaw knew he was breaking the Warrior Code, but Lilystream was far more important. Dawnpaw always said that love could conquer all. "The she-kit?"

"She's the most rambunctious," said Lilystream affectionately. "Seven days old and she won't ever be still. She's your daughter, Sootclaw. A beautiful little tortoiseshell kit, but she has your spirit."

"Thornkit," he suggested. It was another fierce name, stubborn, resilient. Lilystream's eyes brightened at his words and she nodded fervently, leaning even closer toward him. With that, it was settled. Sootclaw was the father of three wonderful kits.

_Thornkit. Icekit. Cricketkit._ He wanted to tell Dawnpaw about them more than anything. But the emptiness surrounded him, leaning in towards him, and he was scared that if he pushed it, it would collapse and destroy his whole mind.

"I love you," he told Lilystream, putting the ginger apprentice out of his mind.

She purred and nuzzled the underside of his chin. "I love you too."

They sat like that for what seemed like an eternity, just watching the moon.

.

On the way back to camp, Sootclaw tried not to think about the Warrior Code. But like any attempt to put something out of one's mind, it just made it even more present in his thoughts. He was breaking it. It was as simple as that. _You may have friendships with cats from other Clans, but your loyalty must remain to your Clan_. The very first rule.

Was his loyalty to ShadowClan or to his kits? It had to be to ShadowClan. It was his home. Yet there was nothing there for him: Dawnpaw and Kitetail were in ThunderClan, and his mate and kits were in RiverClan. The only cat waiting for him back at camp was Pigeonpaw, and Sootclaw couldn't stand his petulant apprentice.

Then he remembered Hailkit, and he knew why he would always be loyal to ShadowClan. The Clan had been there for him when his father had failed him. Hailstripe and Eaglestar had cared for him. Even Birchcloud talked to him now; after Sootclaw had proven himself different than his father, the medicine cat had warmed up to him significantly.

The grey warrior had a duty to his Clan. He would make sure that Pigeonpaw learned the value of the Warrior Code, that Hailkit grew up to be a brave warrior, that Birchcloud never ran out of herbs, that Eaglestar's rule was never challenged, that their claim to the territory was never challenged, that none of his Clanmates was _ever_ in danger.

That was more important than his kits, and he could live with that.

As for having to face them in battle...no honourable warrior would kill another in a skirmish. He might have to scrap with them at the border, but it would just an excuse to test their skills. Sootclaw wouldn't be the most openly affectionate father, but he would be there, and he would love them just the same.

_Thornkit. Icekit. Cricketkit_. He wanted to meet them so badly it hurt. Soon, they would be old enough, and Lilystream would be able to bring them to the border. Sootclaw wondered if Icekit really had his eyes, or if Cricketkit really was the spitting image of his namesake.

Soft, powdery snow fell from the sky and began to speckle his pelt. A gentle breeze began to whistle through the trees. The moon lit a path through the forest, and Sootclaw felt comforted by its light. This serenity had to mean that StarClan approved, right? He wasn't hurting anyone with his decision. Surely, they had to respect that.

He reached the boulder that marked the camp entrance and slipped by it, feeling weariness begin to overtake him. The sooner he was curled up in the warriors den, the better.

Flowerpelt was waiting by camp entrance, obviously unlucky enough to have drawn guard dity. She looked like she was ready to fall asleep on the spot. When the tortoiseshell saw him, she glanced up. "Out for a walk, Sootclaw?"

Sootclaw nodded. "Just getting a little bit of alone time."

She twitched her whiskers sympathetically. "Pigeonpaw still too much for you?"

"You have no idea," mewed the warrior, scrunching up his face. The others made fun of his relationship with Pigeonpaw, but in all honesty, it never ceased to wear him out. They didn't understand just how tiring it was, especially Flowerpelt. He liked her well enough, but she had never had to deal with a disobedient apprentice.

"Go to sleep," Flowerpelt told him, and he sighed in relief, pulling himself towards his den. Once he reached it, Sootclaw collapsed into the moss, buried himself in the rich, familiar scent of ShadowClan, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

.

The next morning, he was fortunate enough to land the dawn patrol. Redfur kicked him out of bed, voice teasing but firm. "Get up, lazy-bones! We need you to defend our borders! You're on the morning patrol with me today."

Sootclaw struggled to his paws. His legs felt lead, and he found himself wondering if last night's trip had been worth it. Then he remembered the names of his kits and the joy in Lilystream's face, and decided that yes, it would have been worth anything. "Who else is coming?" he asked the deputy, trying not to yawn.

She looked at him as though he were a kit. Sootclaw groaned. _Did I really think I should be deputy instead?_ That had been rather arrogant, come to think of it. _I can't even get up on time. Come on, Sootclaw, you have boundaries to mark._ Realizing that she was still watching him, Sootclaw tried to straighten up. Redfur hesitated a moment before replying: "Seedfur and Tanpaw."

Sootclaw felt his heart soar. "No Pigeonpaw?"

"Pigeonpaw is out hunting with Greywing and Nightpaw. They're doing some sort of competition. Eaglestar is assessing them," the spotted she-cat replied.

He frowned. "Assessment? I'm Pigeonpaw's mentor, I should be there if there's an assessment..."

Redfur shrugged. "Eaglestar didn't think you would be that interested. If you're worried, though, you'll still have all afternoon to spend with him."

He didn't have to train Pigeonpaw this morning. Sootclaw knew he should feel relieved, but part of him just felt like he was letting Eaglestar down. What kind of mentor didn't care about his apprentice's assessments? He would have gone if he had known about it, but Eaglestar thought he didn't care, and while that was partially accurate, it still stung.

The deputy's expression softened. "Come on, Sootclaw," she mewed, and for a moment, he wanted to fall into her words and seek reassurances. Being a mother had changed Redfur. She was both more strict and more caring, and it made her a better deputy.

"Right," he mewed, and they padded over to the camp entrance. Flowerpelt had been replaced by Milkyfur, who looked bored, but at least awake. The former queen had easily readjusted to her warrior duties, and whenever Sootclaw saw her, she had nothing but kind words to offer him. Occasionally, he would see her sharing tongues with her mate, Eaglestar. The two seemed so happy together, and it made Sootclaw wish he could have such a public relationship with Lilystream. He wanted to shout his love in front of the Clan, but he knew he could never do that.

Tanpaw and Seedfur met them by the boulder, and silently, the four of them entered the forest, head toward the ThunderClan border. Tanpaw took the lead, with Redfur close behind. Seedfur and Sootclaw trailed at the back, enjoying the fresh morning scents.

"Tanpaw's a good kid," noted Sootclaw as they walked. Above them, a starling began to chirp, fluttering its wings against the pale pink sky. The morning was warm, with barely the hint of a breeze. The skies were clear, the snow beneath his paws crisp and fresh.

"Better than yours?" asked Seedfur wryly.

Sootclaw narrowed his eyes. Why did everyone feel the need to point out that he had trouble controlling Pigeonpaw? The smoky grey warrior shook his head. "Pigeonpaw's good too, just in a different way." The kid had spunk, he couldn't deny that.

"You don't mean that," said Seedfur. She sighed. "Look, Sootclaw, it's not easy to train an apprentice. I know how you feel."

"No, you don't," Sootclaw told her, irritated.

"Kitetail was my first apprentice," she mewed, ignoring the testiness in his voice. "I was determined to do it right, but all he wanted to do was be a medicine cat. Birchcloud told me that it wasn't my fault, that there was nothing I could do. But I still felt like somehow, I was to blame. It was my duty to train him as a warrior, and I had failed him."

Sootclaw was silent. He had never really considered this from Seedfur's point of view. His brother had always wanted to be a medicine cat, and Sootclaw had always blamed Falconswoop for preventing him. The grey tom was surprised that Seedfur hadn't recieved one of Eaglestar's kits as an apprentice, and immediately felt bad for her. "I'm sorry."

"I don't want you to be sorry," she told him softly. "I want you to realize that being a mentor takes a special kind of maturity. You have to be even better than your best. Pigeonpaw isn't the only one who will learn from this partnership."

He shrugged off her words, but they struck something deep within him. Sootclaw turned away from the senior warrior, trying to pretend that he didn't care. He was trying so hard to be a good mentor to Pigeonpaw, but it always felt he was never being rewarded. Maybe he had to forget about that, to only care about the young tom, but...how could he learn anything from Pigeonpaw? That was mouse-brained.

As they reached the border, Sootclaw trotted forward to renew the scent marking. As he finished his duty, another scent caught his attention, strong and familiar. It was coming from the ThunderClan side of the border, and he recognized it instantly.

"You go ahead," he told the others, searching his mind for an excuse to stay behind. "I'm going to do some quick hunting. I thought I heard something in the bushes."

"Alright," mewed Redfur, striding forward. "Tanpaw, Seedfur, let's go."

Sootclaw watched as they walked into the bushes and out of sight before letting out a huge sigh of relief. He padded over the border, eyes scanning the trees on the ThunderClan side of the clearing. "Thickfur? Thickfur!" His words were a hiss.

The ThunderClan warrior emerged from the forest, looking very disgruntled. "I was hoping you would be here," he admitted, and the words sounded like they were being pulled forcefully from his chest. Sootclaw knew that Thickfur hated the idea of the mind-link, and he didn't blame him.

"Is it about Dawnpaw?" Sootclaw asked, the words rushing from his mouth. Seeing Thickfur made him worry even more – something bad must have happened in order for Thickfur to come see him. Yet at the same time, he felt a flicker of hope. He wasn't alone in this anymore.

Thickfur's amber eyes flashed. "You know?"

"I can't..." Sootclaw trailed off, not sure how to describe this. He had never talked about his mind-link with another cat, never tried to put his emotions into words. "It's hard to explain, but I can't find her anymore. She's not there. It's empty. Why, what happened?"

Standing amidst the bushes, Thickfur looked almost dishevelled. His fur was messy, his expression even more irritable than usual, and his posture had a certain unease to it that Sootclaw had never seen in him before. Only his eyes were the same, hard and flat, carefully guarded. "Dawnpaw's in a coma," he said roughly. "I thought you might... that she might have said something to you."

Despairingly, Sootclaw shook his head. Coming to see him had obviously been a difficult and uncomfortable decision for Thickfur, and he wished he could have rewarded the tabby with more information. "Look," he began, dreading the answer that would follow his words. "I need to get back to my patrol, but can we meet up again soon?"

Thickfur's gaze met his, and for a horrible, gut-wrenching moment, Sootclaw thought that the ThunderClan warrior would say no.

**X X X X X X X**

**A/N:** You know what they say: better late than never! Here's the Sootclaw chapter in which we are introduced to his kits, in a way. Some of you seemed to be expecting a Lilystream chapter, but unfortunately, I already have half a billion POVs, so I can't really fit her in. Sorry! Sootclaw will get to meet his bundles at one point, though it won't be for awhile, as they're still too young to be travelling. Anyway, writing uncomfortable Thickfur feels weird. I'm not used to him not being in control. I doubt he's happy either.

Apart from the SootxLily and Sootclaw learning what happened to Dawnpaw, nothing overly exciting happens in this chapter. Next is Dawnpaw, though! She's still wandering through the Dark Forest with Shredtail and Worm.

**Kartlin:** Wow, what a hunch! I can't confirm or deny any of it, but you may be on the right track with the idea of an exorcism.

**The Last Clan:** Oh gosh, that was confusing, now that I read it over. Baron wants Russet to kill Alder, and if he does, he'll give him Needle's position, haha. Hope that makes sense!

**KittyKat8888:** I love Russet, and I plan to give his story lots of attention, since his tale is far from over. He definitely has a lot of feelings leftover from his exile, as well as a desire to prove himself. That being said, I won't reveal whether he redeems himself and lives happily ever after, or dies in the attempt. Maybe leopards really can't change their spots.

**ScourgexScarlet:** Thanks!

**frostfeather:** Yay, someone appreciates my music choices! :) I've read a bit of Homestuck, but never really got into it. Sorry to disappoint about Lilystream; I never meant to imply that she was the next POV. Since you're curious, though, she doesn't know about Dawnpaw or the mind-link.

**Hannah:** Haha, that's right, I rose above the materialism of your pen name! I do like the new one, though :D As for Russet's Redemption (New spin-off novel! Catchy title! On sale now!), you can read my above remarks.

**Thistlethorn of Shadowclan:** Yeah, good call about there a lot of POVs and a lot of time between each one. It's necessary for this story, but I'll try to return to more of the Soot/Dawn alternating POV chapters in the next.

**Kartlyn**: Hey, you again! Seriously, go write a story. It's the best feeling in the world, and I would be happy to give you some feedback on it :)

**CinderblazeFan**: Wow, thanks so much for all of your praise! You read everything really quickly, haha. I'm glad you like Fogpaw, too, and good luck on your own story!

**iPinkNinja**: What, no! Don't feel horrible at all! I wouldn't write such dark undercurrents if I didn't want you to enjoy them ;)

Oh geez, I spent too much time not writing. I'm starting to get emotional whenever I see one of you write Dawnpaw's name. There's just so much attached to it and it's hard to explain. D: I promise to update more quickly now! I took a slight break and it worked wonders to restore my muse, so I'll hopefully see you all soon.

Thanks for all the Fogpaw love, by the way! I'm really happy that you guys have taken such a liking to her. Her next POV chapter will have her meeting an unlikely ally, plus a big secret (or plot point) will be revealed. That's still a little bit away, though. Stay tuned!

How did you guys feel about Seedfur's little spiel? I've always felt bad for her, having the apprentice that never wanted to be a warrior...

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	10. Chapter Eight

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Dawnpaw had lost track of time.

It was easy to do in the Dark Forest. Days began to bleed together, separated only the fringes of darkness, the nights, that she saw briefly before shutting her eyes. One long march carried into the next, until she could no longer distinguish the hours. There was only time spent walking and time spent sleeping, and the time spent sleeping was never near long enough. Sometimes the sky was grey, at other times, it was black. She had stopped looking. The only thing that kept her going was Sootclaw's spectre, his warm ghost wrapping around her trembling frame.

"It's been seven days," Shredtail told her, once, when they stopped to drink. The stream they were following was barely more than liquid mud, but every once in awhile they would come across a pool of clear water, a luxury Dawnpaw had never appreciated until now.

"Seven days," she repeated. It took her awhile to register the thought. Seven whole days since she had last felt Sootclaw, seen Thickfur, or talked to Kitetail. Did they know she was still alive? They must. The ginger she-cat trusted the medicine cat to take care of her. They had become friends in the few moons that he had spent in ThunderClan, though she took care not to reveal any of her feelings for his brother. "Are we close?"

"It's..." Shredtail began, shaking his head. The huge tabby seemed to have difficulty finding the words he needed. "It's complicated."

"How?" Dawnpaw asked, narrowing her eyes. Seven days, and Shredtail had given her no answers. He would tell her to march, to drink, to sleep, but he refused to listen to her questions. It angered her, but she had no choice but to follow him. Shredtail was her guide in this unfamiliar territory; without him, she would be lost. "The Dark Forest can't be that big, can it?"

"It's not about area," Shredtail replied slowly. "The Dark Forest isn't like a Clan territory. It stretches on infinitely."

"No," said Dawnpaw automatically. Her defiance made Shredtail glare at her, but she carried on hurriedly, hoping she wouldn't ignite the spark of anger within him. She hadn't seen it flare up yet, but it scared her. He was down here for a reason. "Because it has to run in to StarClan at some point, right?"

"Right," he mewed grudgingly. "Maybe I'm explaining it wrong. It doesn't occupy an infinite amount of space. Instead of extending outward, it folds in on itself. There are multiple layers occupying the same space. There might be cats right here with us now, but we can't see them – and vice versa – because they're on a different fold."

That answer floored Dawnpaw. She tried to wrap her mind around it, to conceptualize the folds, but she just couldn't do it. The best she could get was that there were multiple copies of this space, all on top of each other. The apprentice supposed that if her mind could be linked to Sootclaw's, anything was possible, but still...

"StarClan is at the top," continued Shredtail. "To go up, we must first go out. Understand?"

Dawnpaw didn't, not really, but she nodded anyway.

"Good," he said, and that was it. They continued on.

.

Dusk found them as they entered a more open area of the forest, where the trees grew thinner and shorter. The grass underneath Dawnpaw's paws had turned to a spongy moss, and around her, the air was moist and cool. The air smelled of rotting wood, mixed in with the thick stench of mud. Behind the treeline wreathed the fog, ever present.

"We'll stop here," announced Shredtail, gesturing to a stooped cedar with low-hanging branches. Dawnpaw followed him, relieved at the prospect of rest. Her muscles were sore, complaining with every step, and her bones ached with weariness. She hadn't once complained to Shredtail; her mentor's voice rang in her mind whenever the urge arose. _Stop whining, Dawnpaw. Warriors don't whine. Are you a warrior or a kit?_

She missed Thickfur. It hurt to admit it, but as cruel as he was, he had always been there for her. He had saved her, all those moons ago, when she had slipped on the mud and almost crashed into the rocks by the lake. Then he had lied to Slatestar to protect her secret. More than anything, she couldn't banish the memory of his warmth, when he had comforted her by Brindlefeather's body.

Dawnpaw wanted to trust him. She wanted to trust him so badly that it hurt. But Thickfur was a mystery. One moment, he was on her side, the next, he was holding her down in the snow. StarClan had blessed her with the power to read Sootclaw's mind. Why couldn't they have given her an inkling of her mentor's thoughts as well?

So the she-cat settled in by the cedar tree, curling up where the trunk gave way to an enclosed space. Leaves brushed at her pelt as she entered the screened area, protected behind the foliage. The ground was hard underneath her paws, littered with twigs, and as she lay down, Dawnpaw thought wistfully of her moss bed back in the apprentices den. But there was no sense in complaining.

Worm materialized out of the forest around them, a scrawny vole clutched in his jaws. The pale tabby had been following them from a distance, showing up with food and helping to protect Dawnpaw at night. She still didn't trust him, and it seemed that Shredtail understood that. The brown tabby took the vole from Worm's jaws and padded over to the cedar to present it to Dawnpaw.

When Shredtail came in to give her the prey and wish her a good sleep, she couldn't help but think of Elmheart. When they had been apprentices together, he had always told her stories before bed, fantastic tales of daring warriors that his father had passed down to him. Then he would wish her a good night and press his nose to her cheek before settling down next to her.

_Elmheart_. She felt her gut wrench. She missed him too, but that was different. She had been missing him for moons. Her best friend was gone in a flash. _Why did he have to tell he how he felt?_ Dawnpaw wondered. _He could have kept it in, given it time. Maybe he would have gotten over it._ She cringed. All she wanted was to have her friend back.

She loved him, but not in the way she wanted. After his confession, she had hoped that maybe one day, in a moon or two or three, she would return his feelings. But with Sootclaw in her head, part of her had always known that that was impossible. Instead, she had developed feelings for a different cat. _The unobtainable one._

"See you in the morning," said Shredtail stiffly. Evidently, he wasn't used to playing the father to scared young she-cats. He was obviously uncomfortable around her. On the march, it was okay, but here...the kindness didn't come easily to him.

Dawnpaw nodded, then – on impulse – asked: "What comes out at night?"

Shredtail seemed taken aback. It took the large tom a moment to regain his composure. Dawnpaw searched him for any signs of anger, but to her relief, found none. "What's your worst nightmare?" he asked.

Dawnpaw thought for a moment. Her mind strayed to the hole where Sootclaw should be, to the desperate ache, to the tattered strands of her mind waving aimlessly in the gap. _It's already happened,_ she thought. "Why?"

"I can't answer you unless you answer me," Shredtail told her, and left.

She collapsed against the moss, feeling her legs begin to shake. The pain of the day began to wash over her. Her body cried out, realizing its torment. Exhaustion tugged at her chest. Dawnpaw curled up and placed her head on her paws. Around her, the world darkened, as if someone had suddenly spread ink across the sky. In moments, she was alone in the blackness, comforted only by the faint glow of the moss beneath her. The she-cat closed her eyes and prayed for sleep.

It did not come easily.

Dawnpaw tossed and turned, stirring restlessly. Occasionally, she would feel the low-hanging limbs of the cedar brush her back, and she would roll back before she could slip out of her shelter. A couple of times, the apprentice opened her eyes and tried to spot Shredtail or Worm in the darkness. Once, she thought she caught a glimpse of Worm's fur, a brand of silver in the moonlight, but it was gone just as she registered its presence.

When she finally fell asleep, her dreams were full of Sootclaw. She reached out for him, but when he turned toward her, she realized that he was different, somehow. Blood stained his muzzle, and his amber eyes were wild with bloodlust. He reached toward her and she backed away from him, only to find herself on the top of a precipice. Far below the cliff's edge, water thrashed in vicious rapids and smashed against jagged rocks.

"Kill me," said Sootclaw, stalking toward her. She had never seen him dangerous like this before, never felt this wild desire for blood. "You're the only one who can." Dawnpaw met his eyes and flinched when she saw that they were a cool grey.

"No," she said, taking a step backward. Her paws scrabbled against the rocks and she lost her footing, slipping backward off the cliff. Desperately, she grasped at a root, digging into it with her claws for dear life. Fear coursed through her, but it was distant somehow, as if she was watching the scene from far away.

Sootclaw stood over her. "Well?" he asked, voice laced with venom, and – she frowned. There was pain in there too, desperate and hopeless. He raised a paw, and she watched as it trembled.

"I'm sorry," she told him, and then she dropped.

The fall was quick. Dawnpaw shut her eyes, bracing herself for the end, but before she plunged into the stormy waters below, strong jaws grabbed her scruff and pulled her to safety. She became aware that she was in a small cave, rain lashing against the sea outside. Spots of black dotted her vision, and all she could see was the angry flash of amber eyes. "How could you be so mouse-brained?"

She jerked awake with a muffled gasp. Slowly, Dawnpaw tried to control her breathing, allowing her eyes to adjust to the morning light. The forest around her was still grey, but it was paler now, and she could make out Shredtail and Worm as they paced around the clearing by her makeshift den. It was raining, a steady, soft drizzle that was hardly more than a mist. The cold had deepened, and as she stretched out, the ginger she-cat felt a chill deep in her bones.

Dawnpaw rose to her paws and pushed out through the cedar branches, shivering as the leaves rubbed against her fur. Shredtail turned when he heard her approaching, his green eyes unreadable. Sometimes she wondered what he thought of her. Was he protecting her for her benefit, or for his? Did he care about her life, or did he just want to leave this forest for good? If it was the latter, she could hardly blame him.

"Are you alright?" Shredtail asked slowly. He was massive compared to Worm, a huge brown mass of muscle, scars lining his bulky form. His ragged tail was spread out behind him like a fan. The occasional blade of grass would poke up from its tears. Dawnpaw couldn't take her eyes away from it. It was a morbid fascination, and she wished she could ask him for the story behind it, but she didn't dare invoke his anger. The passing hints of it were scary enough.

_Thickfur was nothing compared to him_, she thought with a shiver. _Thickfur is good. Shredtail, he's not._ Dawnpaw swallowed heavily and tore her eyes from his mutilated tail. "Yes, why?"

"We heard you screaming," said Worm. There was a hint of gleefulness in his voice, and she thought she caught a glimpse of malice in his yellow eyes. "Sounded bad."

"I..." Dawnpaw trailed off. Had she really screamed? She wondered if the fear had been from the threat of pain, or from seeing Sootclaw in such a state. She had been so disconnected in her dream, as if she had been outside her body, but seeing Sootclaw with blood on his muzzle... it had made her insides twist.

"It doesn't get better," Shredtail told her calmly. "It will keep getting worse until it's more than you can take."

"Then what?" Dawnpaw asked, wondering if she really wanted to hear the answer.

He shrugged. "Then you stop waking."

.

They walked for what seemed like ages. It was the same as any other day, except for the rain. It never ceased, never relented, only keep drizzling down on them until Dawnpaw was soaked to the skin. Her fur itched uncomfortably, and she felt her bones complaining again. Beside her, Worm seemed unbothered by the weather. They had made little conversation during their walk, for which she was glad.

A movement in the underbrush caught her attention. Dawnpaw stopped, scanning the bracken for a sign of it. Worm twisted around to look at her. "Keep moving," he mewed, and reluctantly, Dawnpaw allowed her paws to carry her forward.

A few moments later, she saw it again, this time more clearly. Grey eyes stared out at her from between the leaves, and as soon as she craned her neck to see more closely, they vanished. Dawnpaw padded closer to the bushes, her heart in her throat. It couldn't be – no, it couldn't, she was imagining things – him. He was in StarClan now; she had seen it.

Her mind must be playing tricks on her, it made sense. Shredtail had warned her of this forest's dangers. But what if it wasn't her imagination? What if it was real?

"Dawnpaw, keep going," said Worm, frustration clear in his voice. She shuddered at the way her name sounded in his voice, so slimy, so _wrong_. She felt him draw closer and inched away.

"I, uh, need to make dirt," she lied, stepping to the side. "Just wait for me, please."

He hesitated and she wondered, heart pounding against her ribs, what he would say. Finally, Worm turned away, snorting in disgust. "Don't take long."

Dawnpaw breathed a sigh of relief and pushed her way through the bushes. Immediately the feeling of solitude and fear swept over her. Being alone out here was the worst feeling imaginable; it felt like she was closed off from the rest of the word, being swallowed whole by the forest. The trees were teeth and she was lost among them. When night fell, it was simply the mouth closing, shutting her away and drowning her in darkness. _I am being eaten alive_, she thought. _Slowly but surely, I will disappear. _

There was a movement in the bracken. This time it was a long brown tail, flickering for a moment before disappearing. Swallowing her discomfort, Dawnpaw took off after it, barrelling through the bracken and ignoring the thorns as they tore against her pelt. Blood swelled from cuts across her legs as she pushed through a bramble patch, and memories flooded back to her. Stalking through the thicket, coming across the clearing, seeing the blood on his fur...

She followed the glimpses of him, dimly aware that the air was becoming colder and the trees were beginning to change, becoming short and stunted. A voice in the back of her mind urged her to turn around, to find Shredtail, to return to safety, but the ginger she-cat was used to voices in her head and she pushed it aside. Fear threatened to envelop her, but Dawnpaw contained it in her chest, keeping her head clear.

The trees fell away and suddenly she was in a small clearing. The fog was thicker here, and it masked the drizzling rain, wrapping around her slender legs, dampening her fur and chilling her to the bone. "Branchpaw?" she called out, voice frail and weak against the overbearing silence. There was no answer. The flashes of movement were gone. The clearing was empty.

He wasn't there.

_I saw him go to StarClan_. Her heart dropped into her stomach like a stone. How mouse-brained was she? Branchpaw wasn't here; he was gone, he was safer than she was, for StarClan's sake! The apprentice's skin began to prickle and she took a hesitant step backward. "Shredtail?" she managed to squeak out, her bravery instantly gone.

There was no answer. Dawnpaw hesitated before calling again. "Shredtail?" she mewed, louder this time.

Silence. It felt heavy, pushing down on her shoulders, her chest, tightening around her neck as she tried to breathe. The cold washed over her and she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and exhale into it, giving her life away in one gentle breath.

A twig cracked behind her.

Dawnpaw turned, heart pounding so loudly that she was sure the whole forest could hear it. Green eyes stared out at her from the darkness. She searched them, looking for any traces of familiarity. But the rage that she found there had burned away anything recognizable.

Shredtail stepped out of the darkness and loomed over her, his fangs bared and claws drawn. He was shaking with fury, she realized, his muscular figure filled to the brim with anger. "Do you want to die?" he hissed, and there was a cold, pure fury to it that scared her more than any yowl. He carried his anger naturally, as if it was a part of him he had been channeling for years.

She tried to apologize, but the words caught in her throat. An empty choking noise escaped her, and Dawnpaw immediately realized how mouse-brained she sounded. The she-cat shrunk under Shredtail's gaze, trying to ignore the glint in his eyes and the way his claws were churning the earth as if it was prey.

He swung his head down so that their noses were almost touching. "Don't ever do anything like that again, do you hear me?" whispered the tom, voice as cold as ice. He drew out the next word, every sound accentuated from the back of his throat. "_Ever_."

Dawnpaw nodded numbly. She tried to look down, but he caught her chin with his paw and forced it up. Shredtail's green eyes flashed. "Look at me," he commanded, his words cutting her sharper than any thorn. Dawnpaw could only stare at him in fear, her whole body tense, anticipating his next move. _He could kill me._

Pawsteps thudded against the ground from the bushes behind Shredtail, loud and ominous. "Shredtail!" It was Worm's voice, frantic, lacking its usual slickness. The scarred tabby took a deep, shuddering breath, slowly lowering his paw. Then the brutal anger in his eyes turned to worry, and the intensity of the emotion made Dawnpaw's blood run cold.

Without hesitation, the brown tabby pushed her towards a nearby thicket. "Hide," he hissed, anger and fear mingling in his tone. Barely able to breathe, Dawnpaw did as she was told, falling to her belly and scrambling beneath a nearby patch of bramble. As she pulled herself further in, she felt Shredtail rearranging the bracken to hide any glimpses of her ginger fur.

Then the footsteps arrived in the clearing and Dawnpaw lay still.

"Shredtail." The voice was familiar, yet different. Dawnpaw hesitated a moment before twisting her neck, trying to see into the clearing. Her vision was blocked by the bracken, but she could still make out Shredtail, tense as he stood in the clearing, and across from him, another tabby. The newcomer had a slimmer build, though his shoulders were just as broad. His fur was short and tidy, and his eyes – his eyes were a horrible, pale, dead grey.

"Branchclaw," said Shredtail calmly.

"I've been looking for you," said Branchclaw. Staring at him, Dawnpaw felt a sickening jolt in her stomach. This was the cat who had tried to take over her brother's body, who had attempted to kill her, who had murdered Brindlefeather.

"Really?" asked Shredtail calmly. He sat down, curling his mangled tail over his paws. He was trying to appear calm, but Dawnpaw could tell that he was just as tense as ever. She had a feeling that Branchclaw knew that as well.

Branchclaw nodded. "Thistleclaw and Hawkfrost are calling another meeting. About the attack." His cool eyes scanned Shredtail's figure before moving on to the rest of the clearing. They flickered as they passed over Worm, who had emerged from the bushes to Shredtail's right, and continued on their way. Dawnpaw held her breath as Branchclaw looked in her direction, wondering if he could hear the beating of her heart. Then he turned back to Shredtail.

"Are you inviting me?" Shredtail's lip curled. His humour was dark, and Dawnpaw felt no inclination to laugh.

"You're one of the best," said Branchclaw softly. "They value your advice."

Two things hit Dawnpaw then. The first was that Shredtail was _important_ down here, not just another lost warrior. But if he was at the forefront of the Dark Forest, why was he risking so much to help her? Could she trust him? Was he being honest when he said he wanted out of the darkness? There were two ways out, after all: into StarClan, or into the world of the Clans. And if Shredtail had been part of the attack on the Clans all those moons ago...

The second was that there was to be a meeting. About an attack. Dawnpaw knew, in that instant, that she needed to be there. If she listened in, perhaps she could find a way to warn ThunderClan. That was more important than escaping.

_Sootclaw_, she thought worriedly. Then, _Thickfur._

.

"We're eavesdropping," she told Shredtail without missing a beat. After Branchclaw had left, the three had resumed their walk. The huge brown tabby had been quieter than usual, subdued, and it had fallen to Worm to direct Dawnpaw as they made their way through the forest.

"What?" he asked, somewhat startled. His rage hadn't reemerged since the clearing, but he had been on edge ever since the meeting with Branchclaw. The ginger she-cat hadn't confronted him about being important to Thistleclaw – she didn't want to risk the conversation that would follow. That could wait, but this – this couldn't.

"I want to go to the meeting," she mewed softly. "I need to know what they're planning."

Shredtail shook his massive head. "It's not safe. The most important thing is to get you to StarClan."

Dawnpaw stopped and dug her claws into the ground. "I want to listen in."

Irritation was plain across his face. "Dawnpaw."

"You scare me," she told him quietly. Shredtail narrowed his eyes at that, but didn't speak up. Taking a deep breath, Dawnpaw continued. "You scare me, but the thought of an attack on my Clan... on any of the Clans... it scares me more. Helping me doesn't mean anything if there's nothing left to save, so _please_, Shredtail. Let's go to the meeting."

The tabby paused for a moment before letting out a grunt. "Fine," he mewed grudgingly. "But this time, you have to do _exactly_ what I say, _when _I say. Do you understand?"

Dawnpaw nodded eagerly, despite her fear. "Yes," she mewed. In that moment, she knew things would change. She wanted to stop being the victim, the rock, the emotional harness – and start being the hero.

**X X X X X X X**

**A/N:** Thanks for being patient, guys! As your reward, another update. I can't believe it's been a month; I'm so sorry. Hopefully this answers some questions and advances the plot – as scared as Dawnpaw is, she's not content to just follow along behind Shredtail. I just hope it doesn't get her into trouble...

Also, I realize that there's some stuff about Shredtail in _The Last Hope_, but we're basically just going to ignore that that book even exists. This series is basically canon until _Night Whispers_ and then I don't even care. I didn't even realize that the fourth series was finished until today, so like... yeah. Whatever.

**Kartlyn:** Exciting to see a Sootclaw lover! Haha, especially since all the reviews at the beginning of PotS were basically "Sootpaw is a butt." :D

**ScourgexScarlet:** That's great! What exactly made you change your mind about Lilystream, if there was a particular moment?

**Reese's Peanut Butter Cup:** Yeah, Sootclaw and Dawnpaw have an odd sort of relationship. It's cool to find someone who ships DawnxElm, though. Personally, I ship Elmheart with everyone...

**Hannah: **Psh, guard dity is obviously a real thing, what are you talking about? Anyway, thanks for the review!

**Blackish: **You caught me on Icekit's eyes. I thought it was plausible that he had opened them earlier than his siblings, but I forgot that they would be blue. Whoops. As for the pelt colours, yeah, not exactly realistic, but I'm going to pull the "this-is-Warriors" excuse. Thanks for pointing it out, though! I'll do my research next time. Also, when Sootclaw says that he couldn't find her, he basically meant in his "mind-space". Like, he had searched the emptiness around him and couldn't find her mind. Blah. That will be explained better in future chapters.

**frostfeather:** I forgot you were talking about Homestuck and was like "I was making a comic?" XD Yeah, Sootclaw is a bit hypocritical here, I'm glad you picked that up. I'm trying to make him more mature without being too mature. He's not quite there yet.

**Thistlethorn of Shadowclan: **If you're changing your opinions about characters, then it means I'm doing my job, and it is absolutely the best praise to hear as an author, in my opinion. Thank you so much for the great review!

**Rain's Feather: **Wah, so many questions! Let me see what I can answer that won't be a spoiler. Dawnpaw will wake up when she wakes up, Thickfur isn't even sure if he _likes_ Dawnpaw, but he's definitely confused about it, Sootclaw won't tell anyone and I think he's a bit oblivious to Dawnpaw's jealousy. Thanks for all the interest, though! :)

**monkeyCsaw:** Yeah, Elmheart's doing the angst thing at the moment, and I hope to snap him out of it. Aw, I'm so glad you love Fogpaw, she seems to be a hit! Thank you so much for the great review and compliments and asdfgjkl I'm blushing.

**Flyere**: Ahaha, it's always fun to meet someone who claims to be addicted to my writing. That's a really high form of praise, so thank you so much! I hope that this chapter, err, meets your craving. Fogpaw will be coming up in a couple of chapters, by the way, so just hold on. :)

**RainbowNinjaUnicorn279: **Yup, I messed up on Icekit's eyes. I forgot they would be blue at first, so you caught me. Oh well. Thanks for being on the lookout, though! Haha yeah, I chose Thornkit for her because it is a bit masculine – she's a big, tough, rambunctious kit. It'll hopefully fit her as she grows older.

I promise the next chapter will be a little bit more interesting, mostly because a) it will be a far quicker update than this, and b) I'm pretty sure it's Thickfur, though I do have to check my outline. Edit: Yes it is! We get both a Thickfur and a Kitetail POV next chapter.

Thanks for reading and please review!

PV :)


	11. Chapter Nine

**CHAPTER NINE  
><strong>

"It's not your fault."

The sun was bright, blindingly so. The snowdrifts sparkled with radiant light, forcing Thickfur to turn his eyes to the ground. The scent of ThunderClan cats was heavy in the air around him; it was familiar, a scent of leaf and mud and stone, though right now it did nothing to comfort him. The tom was seated beside the nursery, where Cherrytail had placed herself beside him, attempting to cheer him up.

Her voice was meant to be soothing, Thickfur knew that. Yet all her words seemed to do was irritate him, pushing on the frustration that lurked under his skin, threatening to turn it into a roiling boil. He had never been good with keeping his temper, and his sister knew that. So he kept his shoulders hunched and his eyes on the ground, hoping Cherrytail would read the subtle cues and leave him alone to wallow in this strange mix of guilt and self-hatred.

_It was getting better, too_, he thought wryly, shutting his eyes and wishing everything would just fall away from him. _Everything was getting better, and then you just had to go and ruin it by falling into a coma._ He couldn't decide who he was more upset with, himself or Dawnpaw. No, Thickfur couldn't tell whom he hated more. _Why would you do that to me?_

"You don't know that," he said softly. Each word felt like it was being pulled out of him. A heavy swell of nausea rolled through his gut.

"If your meanness was enough to make her lose consciousness, it would have happened already," the ginger-and-white she-cat pointed out. Thickfur knew she was trying to be practical, trying to make him feel better, but all he felt was annoyance. Cherrytail didn't understand, didn't know what it was like, and her words reeked of immaturity and inconsideration.

"My meanness." Thickfur's voice was hard and flat. He knew the rest of the Clan wasn't a fan of his unorthodox training methods, but he had always assumed that they understood what he was doing. He was pressing her, he was stern, but he wasn't _cruel_. To hear Cherrytail put it so simply – it hurt.

"Don't act like you don't know," she mewed chidingly. "I know you're not a bad cat, but you're not the kindest mentor either."

For a fleeting moment, the grey tabby wondered if his sister even knew what she was saying. There was a loss of understanding between them, a huge chasm, as if they were on two different wavelengths that were still drifting apart, even after moons and moons of separation. "Then don't act like you know what it's like to be a mentor," said Thickfur. His words were biting, though he was still holding most of the anger and the irritation back. "You've never been one. You don't understand the pressure or the responsibility. I have dedicated the past five moons of my life to Dawnpaw. _Solely_ to Dawnpaw. And what matters isn't my feelings or her feelings – it's how she'll serve the Clan as a warrior."

He heard her exhale and slowly turned to look at her. They were sitting beside the nursery, removed from the centre of camp where others had gathered to share tongues. The day was sunny but cold, and the chill in the air bit at his skin. Thickfur felt it more acutely than he had before; he felt more sensitive to the slightest changes now that Dawnpaw was gone. Cherrytail was watching him with worry shining in her eyes. "You've taken too much stress upon yourself," she murmured. "You're fixated on this. There are more things in life than duty."

"Fixated?" he scoffed, feeling the anger push up in his throat. "_Fixated_? Just because I'm sticking to my responsibilities doesn't make me obsessed. Slatestar gave me a task, entrusted me with solemn duty, and now I have to honour those expectations. I don't give up. That makes me mature."

"You always do this," Cherrytail insisted, and he could hear the note of panic in her voice, the plea. "Ever since mom – "

"Stop!" he yowled, cutting her off. Cherrytail must have heard the raw desperation in his voice, for she fell silent. Thickfur dug his claws into the ground, aware that his outburst had drawn the attention of some nearby warriors. He knew they thought he was crazy, that Dawnpaw's accident was weighing down on him, and it made him so angry. Usually, he didn't care what others thought. But the last thing that the tabby wanted was pity. "That doesn't matter anymore. We've moved on. Grow up, Cherrytail."

"Grow up?" There it was, the anger that was customary to their family, the flame that Slatestar had learned to bury and that Thickfur had to constantly control. Cherrytail's eyes narrowed. "I'm a mother, Thickfur, in case you hadn't noticed. I have a kit. I am more responsible for him than you will _ever_ be for Dawnpaw."

"A kit?" Thickfur sneered, and he knew he was crossing a line. It felt like he was plunging headfirst into the lake, but there was no one to stop him, no one to pull him back. "You are fully responsible for Limekit, aren't you? And that's why? Because his father isn't here. His father, who was a traitor, both to his Clan and to the code. His father, who never loved you, but used you. A father whose two sons disappointed him so he needed to make another?"

Cherrytail slashed him, her claws raking across his face. He didn't see it coming.

Pain leapt, white-hot, in front of his eyes. Thickfur fought the urge to cry out, instead gritting his teeth as he felt blood, warm and sticky, seeping into the fur on the side of his muzzle. He had deserved that, he knew it in every fibre of his being. He was self-destructive now. He had lost his purpose. Lost the one thing that would grant him absolution.

"He's right there," she hissed, pointing to the nursery with her tail. Venom dripped from her words, seeping into his wound, hurting him that much more. "How dare you." Then she turned and walked away without a second glance.

.

The sun rose and set, and still Thickfur's muzzle burned. He had pushed the incident out of his mind, too angry to fully rationalize. He knew he would start to blame her, and the bitterness that lingered wasn't worth dealing with at the moment. He would think about it later, when he had returned to a more rational state of mind.

The night was cool, the air calm, with a light dusting of snowflakes floating down from the sky. Thickfur felt them gently kiss his fur as he padded toward the Highledge. Slatestar had called a meeting, and they all knew that it would be about the Gathering. There was nothing particular exciting about this moon's meeting – tensions between the Clans had been running low for awhile now, though WindClan was still being mysteriously quiet.

The grey tabby sat down beside Kitetail, silent as he wrapped his tail around his paws, and listened as Slatestar named the cats that would be going to the Gathering. Thickfur watched as his father stood atop the Highledge, calmly gazing down at the assembled warriors below. He would have given anything to have his father's composure, his steady gaze, but Thickfur knew it wasn't possible. They were simply too different.

He was among the cats named, which didn't come as surprise. Slatestar probably didn't think it was wise to leave him in camp with the loners. The cats who would remain at camp would act as their guards, but Thickfur was easily provoked, and he all knew he might end up lashing out at one of them instead. His formerly stoic composure had been slipping lately, and if there was one cat who would notice, it was Slatestar.

"Elmheart, Larchstripe, Grasscloud, and Beechclaw will stay here to keep guard over camp," mewed Slatestar. They all knew he meant guard it from what was already inside. "Kitetail will also stay, to keep watch over Dawnpaw."

The others looked slightly surprised at that, but Thickfur let out a huge sigh of relief, some of the queasiness in his stomach now settled. He was slowly coming to the realization that he cared too much. Dawnpaw was just his Clanmate, and not even a particularly respectable one. She was whiny and weak and conversations between them were stiff. He was supposed to turn her into a good warrior, and look out for her, but he wasn't supposed to like her.

"Whenever everyone's ready," said Slatestar, leaping down from the ledge. Thickfur blinked, realizing he had missed some of his leader's speech. He was grateful that Slatestar had left a good amount of cats to guard the camp. He didn't trust the loners, especially the one that acted like their leader, the brown tabby. He gave Thickfur a bad feeling, a queasiness in the pit of his stomach. The grey tom shuddered. He would be far happier once they were gone.

The cats that had been chosen began to congregate by the camp entrance. Thickfur padded over to them, looking up at the sky as he did so. The sun had just set – they would be there earlier than the other Clans, if only by a little bit. The warrior found himself standing near Cherrytail and quickly distanced himself from her, still angry from their earlier argument.

He knew she was only trying to help him, but why couldn't she see that she was just making it worse? The front of his muzzle stung, and he swiped his tongue over it absentmindedly. Thickfur had been too proud to go to Kitetail for help – and he was avoiding the medicine cat's den in general – but he had taken a look at it in the lake and it didn't seem like it would scar.

_She had no right to bring that up_, he thought darkly. _No right._

Owlfeather fell into step beside him, mewing an amiable greeting. Thickfur returned it dully, and the grey-brown warrior seemed to take the hint. They walked in comfortable silence as they followed the others though the forest. As they walked through the darkened forest, Thickfur wished he could simply blend into the night. If he could only reduce himself to a shadow, to a scant wisp of fog in the moonlight... it would be so easy.

It would be enough for him.

.

When the Gathering began, there was only one cat that Thickfur looked for: Sootclaw.

The grey tabby ground his teeth, swinging his massive head from side to side. The ShadowClan tom was nowhere to be found. Thickfur had already located the ShadowClan contingent, huddled together at the far side of the island, but he was unable to lay eyes on the smoky grey warrior. _Where are you? _

Casting a quick glance toward the rocks at the front of the island, Thickfur saw that the leaders were assuming their positions, almost ready to begin the meeting. A quick pulse of panic ran through him: he needed to talk to Sootclaw before that happened. He needed to do it here; another border meeting would be too risky. The last thing he wanted to do was break the warrior code. Thickfur knew how it happened; he had seen it before. It started small – little, clandestine meetings – and evolved into something much larger. No, he had to abide by the code.

"Thickfur!" called a voice. It was calm, pleasant, but there was a hint of desperation that instantly identified its owner to the massive tabby.

He turned around, recoiling slightly at the ShadowClan stench. _Sootclaw_. The dark grey warrior was right there. He was looking better than the last time Thickfur had seen him – more sleep, perhaps – but there was still that anxious look in his eyes that gave away his inner turmoil.

"How are you?" asked Thickfur, trying to be polite. "Is the prey running well in ShadowClan?"

Sootclaw nodded. "I'm well, thank you," he mewed curtly. Then, gesturing with his tail, he added: "Follow me. We'll talk over there."

The ShadowClan tom led him over to a clump of bracken at the edge of the clearing. They passed through it, squeezing by a pair of frosted rowans, and padded out onto the shore of the island. The sand was cold underneath Thickfur's paws, and in front of him, a thin veil of ice coated the lake. It was beautiful, in a way, peaceful and serene. If it had been any other night, Thickfur would have enjoyed the calm.

"So," mewed Sootclaw, once they had settled down. "Tell me everything from the beginning."

Thickfur felt a stab of irritation at being addressed so casually by the younger tom, but pushed it aside. "We were out training, doing some work on sneak attacks and taking your opponent by surprise, when she suddenly collapsed. I rushed her back to camp, and Kitetail said she was in a coma. He doesn't know how long she has until her body starts to fail from lack of nutrients. I thought you might be able to tell me what was happening to her." The words were heavy and lethargic in his mouth; he hated talking, and for an fleeting moment, had the odd desire for Sootclaw to be able to read his mind.

The ShadowClan warrior took a deep breath. "It's like I said... Dawnpaw was there one moment and gone the next. I can't find her at all. I've tried, I really have. You said... she's in a coma?"

Thickfur nodded. Despair burned at the back of his throat. Some small part of him had been foolishly hoping that this meeting would provide him with a solution, but it seemed like Sootclaw was just as confused as he was. "Non-responsive. Can you try harder?"

Sootclaw slowly shook his head. No. "There's nothing I can do."

Frustration coursed through him. Thickfur cursed himself internally. He shouldn't have been expecting anything. He shouldn't have even let himself hope. "Let me know if she gets in contact with you. I need to know."

Sootclaw nodded, frowning. "I will."

Nodding, the ThunderClan tom turned to go. _StarClan help me._

"StarClan can't help us," murmured Sootclaw in a quiet voice. The words were directed more at the ground than at Thickfur, but they still sent prickles down his spine.

"What?" he barked.

Sootclaw looked up, surprised. "I said they can't help us. I don't expect you to believe me, but I've talked to them, Thickfur. And from what they've said... we're on our own."

The ThunderClan tom frowned, digging his claws into the snow-dusted sand. He must have spoken out loud. "We should have a signal," he said, desperate to change the topic. "In case something happens. We'll know to meet up."

Sootclaw nodded. "The clearing between ThunderClan and ShadowClan. If anything happens, we'll leave a white branch lying in the middle. That should do it."

"Alright," mewed Thickfur slowly. It seemed like a good plan, though it did nothing to quell his anxiety.

A silence fell between them, uncomfortable and heavy. "What's..." Thickfur swallowed his pride, for once indulging his curiosity. "What's it like, for you and her...?"

The ShadowClan warrior looked taken aback. "It's..." he trailed off, eyes narrowing in confusion. He seemed to be searching for words, and Thickfur suddenly wondered if he had crossed some sort of line.

A yowl split the cool air. The two toms looked up, startled, and Thickfur realized that the Gathering must be starting now. He exchanged an awkward glance with Sootclaw, who seemed to be eager to get back to his Clanmates. Thickfur couldn't blame him.

"Just... keep calm," said the dark grey warrior, though he sounded more like he was trying to reassure himself than anyone else. "We'll figure this out."

"Right," said Thickfur.

And that was that.

As Sootclaw walked away, Thickfur took a deep breath. The ShadowClan warrior had been right about something: he needed to keep his composure. As much as he wanted to snap, he had to reign everything back in, and exercise that self-control he had been using for the past several moons. The scratches on his muzzle were a stinging reminder of what happened when you let your emotions get the best of you. It was a lesson he had been trying to teach Dawnpaw for moons, and now he had to follow his own advice.

_No emotions_, he told himself. _No emotions, and we'll figure this out._

**x x x**

Kitetail sat by the edge of camp, gazing up at the night sky. The moon was full overhead, bright against the dark sky. Flakes of snow drifted by, staining his muzzle and shoulders. The air was cold, and so he had his limbs pulled in tight to his body, his brown tabby fur fluffed up against the wind. The tom's mouth ached with the taste of bitterness. He would have given anything to be at the Gathering and to see Sootclaw. He missed his brother so badly that it hurt.

"Are you alright?" The voice was foreign to him. Kitetail twisted around to see Alder padding toward him, looking unfazed by the brutal chill. The brown loner seemed calm and in control, his eyes perfectly neutral. His tone was concerned, but polite.

"Yeah," he mewed, feeling a prickle of discomfort run down his spine. He hadn't particularly taken to the loners, though they seemed nice enough. Still, the medicine cat wasn't exactly eager to get to know them. He knew why Slatestar had let them in, that perhaps they were sent by StarClan, the key to unravelling WindClan's strange behaviour, but the brown tabby wasn't so sure.

Alder seemed to sense his uneasiness. The loner sat down where he was, keeping a fair distance between them. "You don't like us very much, do you?"

"I don't _dislike_ you," said Kitetail truthfully. He had nothing against the trio., yet with Falconswoop's memory hanging over him, he had trouble trusting anyone unless they did something to earn it. He had become comfortable with ThunderClan easily enough, but that was different. They had been accommodating and kind, and at the very least, they knew to follow the warrior code. "But... three loners show up in leafbare, seeking hospitality... It doesn't seem right to me."

"I'm sorry," said Alder, though the medicine cat wondered if he really meant it. While Beck and Chantelle were easy enough to figure out, Alder was an enigma – he was polite, calm, and confident, yet Kitetail had the feeling that he was hiding his true self underneath a carefully sculpted mask. "We don't mean to impose. It was just... it was necessary."

Kitetail coughed. He knew Alder's apologies and softness were meant to set him at ease, but Falconswoop had taught him, if inadvertently, to never be fooled by what was on the outside. He wouldn't pass judgement on Alder until he got a chance to find out was underneath. "How's your mate – Chantelle?"

"Doing better," said Alder softly.

"I'm sorry for your loss," murmured Kitetail, remembering what the loner had said about his newborn kits dying from the cold. Maybe that was why Alder was so reserved – he was hiding his grief and his pain underneath a steady exterior. The thought immediately brought Birchcloud's face to his mind, and the tabby cringed. The grey tabby had been his mentor all but officially.

"Me too," said Alder, with a grimace. He sat casually, as if unbothered by the weight of the world, his tail wrapped over his paws. Though the breeze blew through his fur and dots of snow speckled his pelt and muzzle, he didn't react to the cold. "Kitetail, can I ask you a question? I've heard some rumours – you're not from ThunderClan, are you?"

His words struck Kitetail. He would never renounce his ShadowClan heritage, never discount his brother, Flowerpaw, Birchcloud, or any of the others, yet he didn't want it to define him. He was of ThunderClan now, and he didn't want the first thing anyone learned about him to be his past. "No, I'm not," he mewed quietly. "I wanted to be a medicine cat, and ThunderClan needed one. This is how it worked out."

Alder narrowed his eyes. "Why? What happened to ThunderClan's previous medicine cat?"

The thought of Brindlefeather and Branchpaw made Kitetail sick to his stomach. Dawnpaw had explained it to him as best she could, though he still felt like she was holding something back. The fate of the previous ThunderClan medicine cat was not something he liked to talk about. "Branchpaw... we don't know what happened. He snapped, went insane, killed his mentor – Brindlefeather – and ran off. We had to find him and... stop him. It was his sister who finally killed him. Dawnpaw. She's the one who's sick now."

For a long moment, the loner was silent. He sat there, illuminated by the moonlight, his eyes gazing off into the distance. Kitetail suddenly felt wrong, as if he was witnessing an intimate moment, a show of vulnerability that no one was ever meant to see. Then Alder blinked, a slow, languid movement, and turned to face him once more. "It seems like ThunderClan has been through a lot recently. I'm... sorry."

Kitetail frowned, confused. "Sorry? For what? What happened wasn't your fault."

"No," agreed Alder calmly. "It's just... never mind." He shut his eyes again and turned away, signalling that their conversation was over.

Well, Kitetail wasn't ready for their conversation to be over. He cleared his throat to get the tom's attention, not sure what to say except that he needed to say something. "In my opinion, never mind... it's never good."

"It isn't your concern," said Alder quickly. The vulnerability was over, the steely composure back on his face. His tone was reassuring, yet Kitetail felt like there was something that the loner wasn't tell him. He could detect these half-truths easily, but it frustrated him that there was nothing he could do about it.

"Right," said Kitetail. Without a second glance, Alder turned and walked away. For some reason, Kitetail felt compelled to watch him go. His eyes followed the lean brown tabby as he padded towards the den, intrigued far more than he should have been. _Right._

** XX XX XX XX**

**A/N: **Hey dudes! It's been awhile! :) I've been extremely busy with work. I've actually had this chapter written for a long time and just never bothered to proof-read and put it up. I took some extra time to edit it, and I felt that it was worth it, though I'm a little worried it won't be up to par. But here it is! Not much to say, other than it's fairly uneventful. The next few should be better, though you'll have to forgive me - it will be difficult to ease myself back into my characters. It's actually Fogpaw next turn, so that should be fun. Whee.

Anyway, Thickfur is angst-ridden in this chapter, but I promise it's his bottom - at least for now. He's going to try and keep himself more composed from now on. Less wallowing!

**Ranger of the Forest:** Thanks for the great compliments! As far as DawnxElm goes, I see why you have reason to be upset, but don't be so quick assume that Chantelle is going to end up as his mate ;) Elmheart has a lot in front of him...

**Hawkeyes of Shadowclan:** Heh, don't worry about Shredtail. Or maybe you should...

**Flyere:** Branchpaw's in StarClan, which means that Branchclaw is back in the Dark Forest and probably up to no good. Thanks for your review! :)

**Frostfeather:** Actually, Shredtail and Worm are both affected by the nightmares. They just suffer through it. And you're right, I did promise to finish it, so here's another chapter for ya :)

**The Last Clan:** Fogpaw's next, so you're in luck! Also, I have trouble writing female characters, for whatever reason, so I'm glad you think Dawnpaw's doing well! I always worry about her.

**monkeyCsaw:** Oh my goodness, that you so much for that in-depth review! I can only hope that this chapter didn't disappoint. As for Elmheart, I believe that he gets a POV in the next book, which admittedly is still a very long time away.

**Thistlethorn of Shadowclan:** I should update more, I know, I'm so sorry!

**Sundusk:** Right now, haha, I'm sorry it took so long. Thanks for the review, I'm glad you love them :)

**MaggienToby:** Thank you so much for your kind words! I'm happy you're enjoying them! Yeah, poor Sootclaw is all torn up about it... he's gonna learn that nothing like this is ever easy.

**Butterfly that flies at dawn:** Because if she wasn't, the story wouldn't work ;) You'll see. Thanks for the review!

**Juniperleaf of BlazeClan:** I went to work :(

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	12. Chapter Ten

**CHAPTER TEN  
><strong>

Fogpaw woke to the soft pattering of rain as it hit the ground far above her. She groaned as she raised her head, vision swimming with pain. The dull ache was still there, pounding away her sanity, just as it did every day that she was trapped down in this hole. The grey she-cat had lost track of time – looking out the small circle at the top, she could still tell day from night, but she spent more time sleeping and lost in the pain than she did awake.

The torture hadn't stopped. Willowstar came often, and inflicted the terrible darkness upon her. To Fogpaw, the pain seemed to last forever. It was as if all of her nerves were set on fire. It always ended, and yet it was never-ending. It barely lasted more than a minute, and yet it was infinite. It was the worst pain she had ever felt in her life, a brutal rending of her limbs, an inferno of pain, of ice and thunder. It was the bitterest cold and the most shattering heat. It dissolved her and compressed her, broke her and fixed her, shattered her and reassembled her and shattered her some more.

She had long since lost the ability to scream.

Her one solace were the poppy seeds that came tumbling down into her prison. They were her relief, the one thing that could send her into a peaceful oblivion. Once, Fogpaw had caught herself wishing that that oblivion could be eternal. Part of her would rather die than continue to face the endless hurt.

And yet... there was another part of her that was disgusted by the idea of death. _I'm so young_, she thought, with a fierce desperation. _I have to live_. That was what kept her going, that and the the image of her family that was burned to the back of her eyelids. Fogpaw had felt the blackness begin to corrode it, and had hastily tucked it away where the smoky tendrils would never be able to find it. She missed them terribly, even her brother. In fact, Fogpaw missed all of her Clan, missed them so badly that it almost hurt more than the torture itself.

She needed to get back to them.

_Rainpaw. Reedthroat. Morningstep._ It became almost a prayer. The she-cat kept their names swirling around in her mind, clinging on to them with a fiery, steadfast hope. As long as she could remember them, she would keep herself. _Rainpaw. Reedthroat. Morningstep. Toadstar. Patchnose. Lilystream. Tawnyfeather._

They were the names that kept her sane.

Fogpaw stood gingerly, wincing as her bones creaked. She was weakening, the torture and starvation sapping away at her strength. Her bones were painfully obvious underneath her dull grey fur; her thick pelt had lost its glossy sheen. Her captors had thrown down a scrawny rabbit, and it lay beside her, half-eaten. Fogpaw had tried forcing it down, but the food tasted like ash in her mouth.

She gave it a glance now, recoiling as her stomach lurched in disgust. Even the thought of fish made her sick. The warm, salty scent – she couldn't reconcile it with the nightmare that her life had become.

_Half a moon ago, the worst thing in my life was having to do border patrol_, she thought ruefully, padding closer to the entrance. Daylight shone from far above, and Fogpaw could feel strands of wistfulness begin to stir in her abdomen. This was the worst kind of prison – it was the kind that gave her hope.

She hated it.

Fogpaw was a cat of strong emotions. Her life was composed of love, of hate, of anger, of fear, and of determination. There was no room for moderate dislike, for mere satisfaction, for being slightly unnerved. No. Her emotions only existed in the intense range of the spectrum. She didn't just hate this place – she detested it with ever fibre of her being. There was no fear anymore – the pain had become certain, anticipated, regular – only the anger. Pure, brutal ire that roiled deep in her stomach and rose up through her veins.

Then there were the nightmares. They were worse than the torture, because with the torture, it wasn't her fault. But the nightmares were proof that her mind was slowly breaking. Oh, she kept up a strong front, she blocked out the darkness, but it was slowly dissolving the edges of her wall. It had seeped into her, unable to grab hold, but there nonetheless. She dreamt of RiverClan's destruction, of her mother's mangled corpse, of death and decay, and of strange creatures, with deformed bodies, hunchbacks and bones sticking out at all angles. She dreamt of mutilated creatures with burning red eyes, and when she opened her mouth to cry out, they turned into smoke and flew down her throat to choke her.

The poppy seeds made them all go away. Fogpaw stared up at the entrance longingly, wondering about the identity of her benefactor. Was there a WindClan cat still sane enough to genuinely help her, or was it one of their tricks, to grant her another small piece of hope? She stared at the steep wall and wished she could escape, but knew it was impossible. She had tried many times, through herself against it, trying to scramble up. Whenever Willowstar came, they would throw over a thick piece of vine that was anchored above the den. The WindClan she-cat would simply clamp onto it with her mouth, and use it to support herself as she clambered up.

Fogpaw paced in a circle, feeling her mouth burn with bitterness. Eventually she paused and crouched, muscles bunching in preparation for the jump. Without expectation, she threw herself at the slope – and merely came bouncing off. The apprentice landed with a thud and gritted her teeth to prevent from groaning. She had shown far too much weakness already – she couldn't anymore.

In the silence that followed, she heard pawsteps from above. Fogpaw held still, hardly daring to breathe, wondering if she could listen in on any conversation. She still didn't know why they were holding her here, or what they wanted. If she could just find out...

The cats above her began to speak in soft, muted tones. One moved closer, casting a shadow over the entrance. Still holding her breath, Fogpaw crept closer. She could only hear snippets of the conversation, but it was enough.

"...not working..."

"...supposed to do with her?"

"...can't just keep her here..."

"...trying..."

The voices fell away, leaving Fogpaw feeling more alone than ever. Chilled by the conversation, she curled up into a ball, trying to coax herself back to sleep. Deep inside, she felt a small rush of victory – whatever they were trying to do to her, it wasn't working. She was resisting.

Fogpaw buried that nugget of information deep within her, where they would never, ever find it, and let the comforting notion carry her off to sleep.

.

Willowstar woke her up with a sharp jab. Fogpaw almost cried out, but grit her teeth at the last moment, letting the scream fall harmlessly away in her mouth. Head stinging from the hit, she looked up at Willowstar, sure that the WindClan leader could see the vehemence shining in her eyes.

"Get up," said Willowstar.

Fogpaw refused. It was the struggle that fed her, the knowledge that no matter what else they did, they could never make her obey. They could force her to stand, force her to endure the pain, but they would never make her do it willingly. She would resist until her final breath.

"I told you to get up," repeated the she-cat, voice cold and cutting.

Fogpaw held her gaze bitterly. When Willowstar realized the apprentice had no intentons of rising to her feet, she looked up. "Thornfur, Ashpoppy. Hold her up," she barked.

Fogpaw became aware that she was surrounded. The pounding of her head intensified as she looked from side to side, swallowing as she came to terms with her situation. Thornfur stood to her right; staring down at her cruelly, the ginger deputy was nearly as intimidating as his leader. On Fogpaw's other side was Ashpoppy, smirking as she reached forward to grab Fogpaw's scruff in her strong jaws. Fogpaw tried to resist as she was jerked upward, flailing her limbs uselessly.

"Just give in," said Willowstar, and the awful sweetness was back in her voice. "It will be so much easier if you just let us in."

"And smell like crowfood?" asked Fogpaw, wrinkling her nose. "No thanks, I'll take fish any – ah!" Thornfur had slashed his claws across her ear. Fogpaw could felt the warm stickiness of her blood as it began to seep down the side of her face. She winced, grinding her teeth together to prevent any further cries.

"Hold her still," Willowstar instructed the two WindClan warriors. They did as she instructed, and Fogpaw found herself immobilized. She struggled against them, but they were all muscle, while she was just skin and bones.

"Good," mewed the WindClan leader. A malicious glint in her eye, she leaned forward, so that her muzzle was almost touching Fogpaw's. "Ready for some more?"

Then she connected. As she felt her skin hit Willowstar's, Fogpaw let out a ragged gasp, unprepared for the sudden pain. The spark ripped through her face, down her throat, and she felt as thought all of her arteries had burst. There was no more light, no more darkness, no more Willowstar – just the bright red of pain as the darkness began to eat her alive.

.

"Are you awake?"

The voice was oddly familiar. Fogpaw stirred, every inch of her body protesting the movement. She gasped as she tried to sit up, feeling the dull moans of her sides turn into a shrill arpeggio. Her body was an orchestra of pain, and her head was the bass drum.

"No," she managed to reply, collapsing back against the ground. Her mouth was dry, her words barely more than a rasp. That last session had been far more painful than all the rest – the torture was intensifying. "Go away."

Through the ringing in her ears, she heard soft sounds of movement. They were faint, as if from miles and miles away. Yet suddenly, she felt the presence of another cat beside her, standing over her. Fogpaw shut her eyes and pushed her face into the dirt. "I said go away."

The voice was apologetic. "I brought more poppy seeds."

Poppy seeds. That thought alone was enough to pull Fogpaw out of her stupor. She rolled over, trying to ignore the nausea swelling in her stomach, and opened her eyes.

There was a cat sitting in front of her, but he was different from the others. There was no stench of darkness on him, no acrid, stifling sweetness. He was tall and skinny, with short beige fur and thin tabby markings stretching across his back. His eyes, which were a pale gold, showed only apprehension. At his paws, wrapped in leaves, was a small bundle of poppy seeds.

Fogpaw stretched out a leg, reaching for the seeds. Movement was harder than she had expected, and she fumbled clumsily, accidentally knocking the bundle over and scattering the seeds across the floor. "Can you..." she began, words drawn from her mouth with difficulty. Asking for help had never been easy for her.

The strange tom nodded, scooping them up in one deft movement and placing them right by her muzzle. Fogpaw licked one up gratefully, sighing in desperate relief, before looking up at this new cat. "Who are you?"

He hesitated. "Stripedpaw. I'm the medicine cat apprentice."

Fogpaw frowned. "But you're not like them."

"Not like them?" Stripedpaw tilted his head curiously.

"Not... dark... and stuff," she managed to say.

"Oh," he mewed, with a slight pause. "No, I'm not. I don't know why, it just never got to me."

Fogpaw's head was spinning with questions. "If the darkness never reached you... how come they haven't noticed, or tried to torture you?"

He frowned. "I'm a good actor. I'm sure if they took a good look at me, they'd know, but... they're all too busy to care about what I do. As long as I keep my head down and do what I'm told, I'm fine."

"But..." Fogpaw trailed off. "Why don't you try and run?"

"Because they would find me and kill me." Stripedpaw's answer was matter-of-fact. Meeting her gaze, his golden eyes softened. "Look, I'm... I'm just as scared as you are. But as long as I stay here, I'm safe. Please, just... accept my help."

"Do they know you're down here?" she mewed, mind reeling. She was no longer alone. She had a friend. Stripedpaw must have been sending down the poppy seeds all along, making sure she was okay. A feeling of gratitude flared in her chest. He had kept her strong this whole time.

An expression of nervousness came over the tom's narrow face. "They send me down here to make sure that you're still alive. The torture isn't supposed to kill you. They want the darkness to infect you too, so that they can send you back to RiverClan. But... it's not working."

"Why... why not?" Fogpaw asked quietly, shuddering at the thought. Returning to RiverClan as a shell of her former self, infecting her friends, her family... she would rather die than let that happen.

Stripedpaw shrugged helplessly. "Maybe it's spread too thin. Maybe there's only enough for WindClan. I don't know why I don't have it, and I don't know why you're still resistant. I don't want to know. I won't push my luck."

Fogpaw leaned forward and lapped up another few seeds. The pain was starting to lessen now, but only slightly. "You said they were busy. With what?"

"An attack," said Stripedpaw, lowering his voice. "An attack on ThunderClan. I don't know when, but... they're set on it. They've been preparing for almost a week now."

"But..." Words were beginning to escape her. Fogpaw blinked rapidly, an edge of worry in her voice. "Why would they do that? What is the darkness? Where does it come from?"

Her benefactor just shook his head. "I don't know," mumbled the tom. He had a young voice, light and airy. "I really... I don't know."

Fogpaw sat back, mulling his words over. She felt like she had learned something, and yet she was just as confused as ever. As she sat there quietly, an idea began to form in her mind. "Stripedpaw... you can leave at will, right? Can you get a message to my father, Reedthroat? Can you tell him that I'm alright, but that I'm being held hostage here?" Hope was beginning to unfurl in her chest, spreading its beating wings.

Slowly, Stripedpaw shook his head. "I can't, I'm sorry."

The hope shrivelled and died. Fogpaw tasted ash in her mouth. "What? Please? We could both get out, if he comes to rescue us."

The tom's voice was firm. "I can't."

"You've given up," Fogpaw accused, eyes narrowed. "You could help me, you could, but you won't."

"No," Stripedpaw protested feebly. "I haven't! I'm just being realistic – there's nothing we can do, Fogpaw. I would help you if I could."

"Then send the message!" she insisted, turning away from him. Anger burned in her chest, anger at this awful injustice, at being so close to her goal and then having it torn away.

"I can't!" The tabby tom's voice was pleading.

"Go away," snarled Fogpaw, pulling herself into the corner. The she-cat felt like crying, desperate to have the sadness overtake her. Then she could just drown in her sorrow, in her pain, in her miserable failure to escape this situation, and she would no longer be responsible for any of it. Everything hurt. It wasn't fair!

She burrowed her face into her chest, letting the warmth of her fur hide the pain in her eyes. A single sob wracked her body and she convulsed, hiccuping pathetically. The she-cat didn't notice Stripedpaw leaving, but she felt the solitude once he had gone, and it broke her just a little bit more.

**x x x**

Darkness.

Light.

Darkness again.

Then light. Blurred shapes surrounded him, spots of green and blue, a dazzling yellow. Slowly, his eyes focused. Objects sharpened around him. There were tall trees and scraggly bushes, jagged rocks and glossy pebbles, slender reeds and bushy cattails. Sunlight reflected off the snow, momentarily blinding him. Everything was so bright, the colours so intense. They bled into each other, creating a sparkling myriad of hues that blew him away.

He opened his mouth, muscles stiff from disuse, and he was overwhelmed by the scents in the air. He could taste the salt of the fish, the oil right off a frog's back, the robustness of the mud, and he revelled in it. Everything was so rich, so full, so completely enveloping.

Noises came to him then, the chirping of a chickadee, the lap of waves against the shore, the wind sighing through the rushes. They echoed in his ears, in his bones, in his heart. He did more than listen to them – he felt them.

They felt so good.

The tom took a step forward, stumbling forward. He slowed his pace, trying to adjust to the heavy feel of his muscles. He was aware of every facet of his body, conscious of every sensation. His heart thudded against his chest as he moved forward, managing to keep his balance. The snow felt good against his paws, rubbing his pads as he pushed on. The wind ruffled his fur, and the feeling was so good he almost let out a small moan. Even the cold felt good as it pressed against his skin.

He felt so alive.

_Grainstar._ The name sprang, unbidden, to his mind. Was that him? It had to be.

The tom – Grainstar, if that was indeed his name – turned toward the lake. It spread in front of him, sunlight glinting off the dark water. Patches of ice floated in the centre, lost and disconnected. His paws drew him toward and he followed, picking his way through a snow-covered clump of bramble. Carefully padding down the slope, he approached the water. Icy cold, it lapped at his toes, refreshing him.

Grainstar peered into the water, his reflection staring back at him. It took the tom a few moments to come to terms with what he saw. A tall, lean cat stared back at him with gold-flecked olive eyes. His long, fine fur was the colour of warm flax, and his features were narrow and pointed. There was some grey tinging around his muzzle and eyes – he must have been aging. A long, pink scar ran from his right shoulder all the way down to his flank. He stared hard at it, but could not remember its origin.

Slowly, he lowered his muzzle down to the water, and took a slow drink. The water filled his mouth with a million sensations and he drank it in desperately. The water gave him new life, filling his body with electricity and strength.

_How long have I been asleep?_ Grainstar wondered. He turned around, back to where the scent of fish was strongest, and took a step closer. _RiverClan territory_. Images flashed in his mind, memories of a time before the nothingness.

He took another step toward RiverClan territory. And another.

He did not look back.

** XX XX XX XX**

**A/N: **Hey, look at that, a little bit of a quicker update! In this chapter, you folks get to meet two new characters, Stripedpaw and Grainstar. In all honesty, I made up Grain about thirty minutes ago and decided I liked the character so much, I wanted to throw him in. I was initially going to call him Toad, and it took me a few moments to realize that there was a Toadstar... whoops. I've been out of this story for too long.

Unlike last chapter, we actually see the plot advancing. There's to be a big attack on ThunderClan, and we also have Fogpaw learning more about her surroundings as well as the darkness.

Next chapter is both Dawnpaw and Sootclaw! After that, we have Chantelle and Russet. It's going to be very exciting, though the real excitement doesn't start for a few more chapters... _Knight_ has a bit of a slower pace than _Pawn_, but I promise it'll be worth it. The second books are always the weakest in a trilogy, and I'm just hoping you all enjoy _Knight_ just as much as you enjoyed the first one.

As for next chapter, oh my goodness. I just finished writing it and I love it so much. I'm really proud of it. It's about 4800 words, and like I said, it has both Dawnpaw and Sootclaw. A reunion? Perhaps! Also, the chapter after that is written as well. I had far too much time on my hands this weekend.

Lastly, some of my reviewers have been discussing another possible pairing involving Dawnpaw. As I'm sure you all know (and as I've said many times before) I enjoy seeing all the pairings you guys ship and your projections for the future. Possible feelings between Thickfur and Dawnpaw are not entirely out of the question, but at the moment, she's still young, and her feelings lie elsewhere. She's not capable of mature romantic love at the moment, so her feelings for Sootclaw are akin to a high school crush, but their bond is strong. We'll just have to see how her feelings mature, and by we, I mean you, because I already know _exactly_ how they'll mature. Heh. :P

**HI0000000** – I hope I got the right number of zeroes in your name, haha. Limekit doesn't play a huge role in this story, but he does in the next one. If I ever need some filler, I might get around to posting a small POV from him, though.

**Frostfeather** – No, you're right, the last chapter didn't advance the story too much, though it did foreshadow a few events... Aw, it'd be cute to have Sootclaw do that; unfortunately he has no idea where she is or how to get to the Dark Forest. As for the age difference between Dawnpaw and Thickfur... I believe it's twenty-four moons! Thank you for the wonderful review, by the way, yours never fail to make me smile!

**Justsmile77 **– Yeah, Alder is really enigmatic. There's a reason he's like that, and I'm hoping we'll see him open up soon. Chantelle... I'll explain more about her next chapter, but she's basically Alder's childhood friend, another cat of high birth with whom he could play while learning to become the next leader. And wow, you read fast! That's a very high compliment, thank you so much!

**Gottalove** – Great to see such an avid Thickfur fan and ThickxDawn shipper, haha. He's one of my favourite characters, which unfortunately means I have to do mean things to him... We're going to learn more about his past soon, too! Feel free to be more than a passing reviewer; I really appreciate the amazing review, it made me grin.

**XxXMapleXxX **– I have an obligation to tell you to read the other storylines as well, but I'm really glad you're enjoying what you have read! Yep, Dawnpaw and Sootclaw definitely have a complicated relationship, haha.

**Ranger of the Forest **- I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter; I was worried it wasn't up to par with the others. Here's some Fogpaw for you! Alder... yeah, he's strange... but you're going to be seeing more of him soon, and hopefully his behaviour will be explained.

**Sierraleaf **– Not romantically, no, but he does care about her, and doesn't want to admit it.

**Juniperleaf of BlazeClan** – Hi yourself! Getting abducted would be quite a story, but no such luck. Haha, if Thickfur had his own story... "Dear Diary, today I was grumpy. I yelled at someone. Then I felt miserable and conflicted about my existence." Anyway, here's the next chapter, so please don't eat my soul, thanks!

**Flyere** – Thanks for the review, and I'm glad you liked how much the last chapter went into Thickfur. I'm glad it didn't seem over the top.

That's it, that's all. I'll be writing more soon, so be ready for another update! I actually managed to get a lot of writing done over the weekend – the next chapter is pretty much ready to go, so I'll put it up in a few days.

Thanks for reading and please review.

- PV :)


	13. Chapter Eleven

**CHAPTER ELEVEN  
><strong>

Twilight had fallen upon the forest. Fog wreathed between the trees, heavy and damp. The pungent taste of rotting wood coated the inside of Dawnpaw's mouth. She sat pressed against a towering oak, amber eyes nervously scanning the grey sky. There was an odd glow to the Dark Forest at this time of day, a sickly yellow hue that illuminated the bracken around her. Ghosts and wraiths flickered at the edges of her vision as they waited for night to fall. She did her best to ignore them, instead focusing on the _real_, the earth underneath her paws and the drops of water condensing on her pelt.

Shredtail came up behind her. The dusk light softened his face, and for a brief moment, Dawnpaw was no longer scared of him – instead, she felt almost sorry for him. Then he narrowed his eyes and the sympathy vanished. The muscular tom sat down, curling his mangled tail over his wide paws. "Are you ready?" he asked, voice rough.

"As I'll ever be," mewed Dawnpaw truthfully. She felt small next to him, yet there was a fire burning within her core, a desperate need to prove herself. The ginger apprentice felt it flow through her veins, beating back her fear. She wasn't mouse-brained, she wasn't reckless – she would never deny that the fear was there, but for the time being, she would ignore it.

"You're sure?" Shredtail persisted. The tabby tom had done his best to talk her out of it, outlining all of the difficulties, and putting particular emphasis on what would happen if things went wrong and she was noticed. _Death is even more painful in the Dark Forest than it is up above_. His words rang in her mind and she shivered.

Despite that, despite the thought of having her soul torn apart, Dawnpaw didn't care. She wanted to do this. She _needed_ to do this. If the Dark Forest was planning an attack on the Clans, she needed to know. Then, somehow, she would get that information to Sootclaw.

"Yes," Dawnpaw mewed. Her voice quavered slightly, but she kept her chin tilted up. Shredtail's eyes glinted with ambiguous emotion – appraisal? Perhaps respect?

He lowered his voice. "If this goes wrong..."

"I know," she said, cutting him off. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she barged forward. "I'm prepared. I understand the risks and this is something... it's something that I have to do."

She was struck by the realization that she might never see any of her friends or family again, never look upon Thickfur's face or hear Sootclaw's reassuring voice echo in her mind, never share tongues with Kitetail... Dawnpaw closed her eyes, blinking back the white-hot sadness that threatened to crash over her.

"Are you alright?" asked Shredtail awkwardly. Concern did not come easily to him, but Dawnpaw appreciated that he was trying. Since his last outburst, he had been oddly subdued. Her fear, while still vaguely drumming somewhere in her chest, was beginning to fade.

"Yeah," she replied. It was half-true. This was a risk she would have to take. And yet... and yet, the she-cat had regrets. There were things that she should have said. _I should have told Sootclaw the truth about my feelings, that I'm falling in love with him._ That was one of them. Then there was Elmheart. She missed her friend, missed him so badly that it tore at her every single day. _I should have apologized for hurting him like that._

"Good," he said abruptly. "We need to press on. Worm will be meeting you up ahead. I'm going to split off and join the meeting."

Dawnpaw nodded and rose to her paws. Shredtail followed suit, quickly overtaking her to lead the way through the trees. They passed by a thorn bush, jagged spikes menacing in the fog, and underneath the low-hanging branches of a white pine. Dawnpaw shivered as the needles brushed against her back. Casting a glance toward the sky, she saw that night was falling.

_What comes out at night?_ Shredtail had never answered her question. Despite herself, Dawnpaw shivered once more.

They made their way through the forest, the trees growing closer and closer together the further they walked. Dawnpaw imagined that she was walking into the jaws of a large monster, ready to snap shut at any moment. Briefly, the she-cat wondered if Branchpaw had ever come down here in his dreams. She desperately hoped that he hadn't.

Eventually, they reached a tight grove of stunted rowan trees. Shredtail raised his tail, strands of skin and fur hanging down from the bleached bone, as a signal to stop. Dawnpaw came to a halt, waiting for her next instructions. In front of her, Shredtail had turned around, and now faced her, his eyes shining in the darkness. "Now we wait."

It didn't take very long. There was a rustling in the bushes beside her and then Worm emerged, pulling his slender figure fluidly from the underbrush. "Ready to go?" he asked in his sickly sweet voice, fixing Dawnpaw with a piercing gaze.

_Stop asking me that_. A rare flash of anger rose up in her core. Dawnpaw forced it back down. She was on edge, it was understandable. "Yes," she said. "Let's go."

Worm smirked, dipping his head. "Good. Follow me."

.

They lay in a dip of the ground, concealed by a clump of mangled sumac bushes. Withered berries hung in front of Dawnpaw, grazing her nose. The she-cat fought the urge to sneeze, instead looking over at Worm, who lay beside her. The tom's pelt was brushing against hers, and the ginger apprentice fought the urge to shudder as she felt his oily fur. Worm revolted her, it was true, but right now, she had more important things on her mind.

The scent of garlic came on suddenly and she almost gagged. They had rolled in a patch of the plant in order to conceal their scent. Dawnpaw hadn't objected, but her pelt crawled with the memory. It was itching fiercely now, and she swallowed, trying to concentrate her attention on what was in front of her.

Through the sumacs, she could see a clearing, filled with paws all of colours and sizes. The cats themselves were hidden by the bracken, but Dawnpaw saw enough to know that there were a lot of cats present. Near the front, she could make out Shredtail's distinctive tail as its torn strands swept over the ground. Closer to her sat two cats, one a scrawny white and the other a burly russet, deep in muted conversation.

There was a yowl from the front of the clearing and all the muttering stopped. Cats turned their focus toward something that Dawnpaw couldn't see, though she recognized the voice as it spoke. "Welcome," rumbled Branchclaw, the sound of his voice sickeningly similar to her brother's. _He knows who I am_, she realized with depthless horror. _He's watched me._

Then another cat spoke. She didn't recognize the voice, but it cut through the fog like a knife. It was compelling, she realized, filled with a cunning and intelligence that Branchclaw would never had. As the words echoed around the clearing, Dawnpaw had to fight the urge to succumb to them. "There's a reason we called you all here," the voice said. "For moons, you've known that we had a plan. A plan to take back the forest from StarClan's grip. A plan to break free of our prison. Well tonight is the night that our freedom begins. I can almost taste it."

There were yowls of agreement from the ground. The burly ginger cat near Dawnpaw spoke up. "What's happening tonight, Thistleclaw?"

There was a grin audible in Thistleclaw's voice as he replied. "Don't you mean what has already happened? Earlier today, the fibres of existence began to come undone. There is a gap forming. Not here, no, not for us – not yet. But soon it will grow, and we'll all be able to spill through. All we have to do is eliminate what stands in our way on the other side."

"How?" asked the big russet she-cat, piping up once more.

This time, another cat answered. This new voice was slow and meticulous, with all the warmth of leafbare. "StarClan has interfered one too many times with the lives of the Clans. Their actions are tearing apart the boundaries between the living and the dead."

"Hawkfrost," mewed Shredtail, voice hard and flat. "I was wondering when you would show up. Have you spoken to Brambleclaw lately? What is StarClan saying?"

"Brambleclaw's been too scared to show his face near the border," sneered Hawkfrost. "We've got them on the run. StarClan has made far too many mistakes and now they're going to pay for it."

Dawnpaw frowned. Was it really StarClan's fault that the Dark Forest was able to grow stronger? She knew her warrior ancestors had never meant the Clans any harm, but... if this was true, it would change everything. All of the times that StarClan had appeared to help the Clans, all they ended up doing was feeding the cats of the Dark Forest.

Thistleclaw took over once more. "WindClan is already within our control. The darkness spread among them with no resistance. They were weak, and now they belong to us. In three nights, we will destroy another Clan as well – ThunderClan. They won't stand a chance."

_Oh!_ Dawnpaw managed to hold in her gasp at the last moment. Worm must have felt the catch in her chest, for he shot her a warning glance. Dawnpaw felt her insides freeze. They were going to attack ThunderClan. They were going to destroy her Clan. Her mind immediately shot to Thickfur, and she pictured him fighting against the WindClan warriors – fighting and losing, blood pouring from his wounds as he desperately refused to give him. Her heart rent at the thought.

"Worm..." she began, quietly as possible, but another glance from him silenced her. Dawnpaw span Thistleclaw's words around in her head. So WindClan was infected by a darkness? That would explain why they hadn't been coming to Gatherings, why their border patrols were never spotted. She had assumed that leafbare was tough for them, but this... this made sense.

Yowls of agreement rose up from the assembled cats. Finally, Shredtail's voice stood out among the crowd. "When is it our turn?" he called out, and Dawnpaw could hear the longing and glee in his voice. _It's fake_, she told herself, _Shredtail is on my side_. Yet the hunger in his voice was so convincing...

"Soon," promised Branchclaw. "Very soon, Shredtail. You'll have your revenge. In fact, you and Mapleshade will be able to lead the first two patrols."

Darkness had fallen completely over the clearing now. The last strand of grey light vanished from the sky, leaving only unbroken onyx in its place. Dawnpaw felt a shiver run down her back. They needed to leave and find shelter – now. She pressed her tail to Worm's flank urgently.

"We will meet again soon," mewed Thistleclaw dismissively. "Go your own way now, my brothers and sisters. Soon, we will feast on blood."

There were more cries of support and agreement, and then the cats began to disperse. Dawnpaw tried to make herself as small as possible, flattening her body against the ground. No Dark Forest warriors passed right by her, though two made their way through the bushes not far to her left. She held her breath the entire time, only exhaling when she was sure that the clearing was empty.

"Come," whispered Worm, finally daring to speak. "We need to meet up with Shredtail now."

Dawnpaw nodded numbly, rising to her paws. As Worm began to lead her through the maze of bracken, she thought she saw Thickfur out of the corner of her eye. He was watching her, but his eyes were gone, leaving only sockets overflowing with blood. Her heart skipped a beat, but when she turned to get a better look, he was gone. "Worm, what..."

For once, there was no unnerving glee in his voice. Worm gave her an impassive look. "You see them too?"

"Too?" repeated Dawnpaw. Slowly, it began to occur her what Shredtail had meant. _What's your worst nightmare, _he had asked.

"Forget it," said Worm. "We need to get a move on."

She nodded slowly, hesitantly following Worm through the woods. No more ghosts appeared in the edges of her vision, but she couldn't get the image of Thickfur, blood streaming down his cheeks, out of her head.

.

"We need to warn somebody," said Dawnpaw desperately. After the meeting, they had regrouped and made their way back to their temporary camp, a hollow in a mossy log near the brackish stream. The clearing was covered in the glowing moss and Dawnpaw was relieved as the eerie light hit her face, dispelling the night's illusions. The air was colder here, but as she sat by the stream, staring at the swirling muddy water, she found she couldn't care less. There was only one thing that mattered: alerting ThunderClan.

"So warn somebody," said Shredtail, coming to sit beside her. There was a grudging respect in his voice as he assumed his customary position – shoulders erect, tail curled over his feet.

Dawnpaw shot him a curious glance. "I can't. I'm stuck down here. I don't even have Sootclaw." The scent of rot filled her mouth as she spoke, but the she-cat was accustomed to it by now. Every moment she spent down here was a moment she grew stronger.

"Are you sure about that?" asked Shredtail softly. Lashing her tail, Dawnpaw stared back down into the water. She hated when he talked like that, all enigmas, making her doubt herself. Was he purposefully frustrating, or was he just trying to get her to figure it out for herself?

She hadn't seen Shredtail angry for awhile now, and that thought worried her more than the memory of his icy voice, cruel and strong. Was the tom as calm as he seemed, or was he simply building up for another explosion? Dawnpaw wanted to ask about his words back in the meeting, about how desperate he had seemed to draw blood, but held back.

"There's a wound," she tried to explain, "where Sootclaw was ripped away. His mind isn't there anymore, and... and it hurts."

Dawnpaw looked up to see Shredtail giving her a pitying gaze. Anger sparked through her and she forced it down, not wanting to provoke him. Instead, she waited for his next words, the lump rising in her throat almost painful.

"Do you know how your power works, Dawnpaw?" asked Shredtail patiently. When she hesitated, he continued. "StarClan took a piece of you and put it inside Sootclaw. Then they took a piece of him and put it inside you. Your minds may have been separated, but the connection is still there. You're still drawn to him. All you have to do his find him."

Dawnpaw's mouth went dry. "Find him how?" she asked nervously.

When Shredtail looked up, his eyes were dark. "You need to leave your mind," he said softly. "Travel into the darkness that lies beyond. Find his mind."

"I don't understand," Dawnpaw said quickly, though the she-cat had an awful feeling that she did understand, and that what Shredtail was suggesting absolutely horrified her. She had to let go in order to find Sootclaw, abandon her anchor, search for him alone in the darkness.

Shredtail exhaled slowly. When he next spoke, his voice was almost kind. "Find the wound where his mind was torn away. Let yourself seep out of it. Go into the emptiness and search."

"What if I lose myself?" Dawnpaw asked, voice barely more than a whisper. Her throat was clenching, her chest tightening. The idea was terrifying. "What if I can never make it back?"

He met her gaze unflinchingly. "You have to trust that you will."

"Okay," said Dawnpaw hesitantly, mentally preparing herself for the task at hand. It was overwhelming, and yet what Shredtail said made sense, and if it worked... her body sang at the thought of feeling Sootclaw again. She missed him desperately. "I'll do it. How?"

The large tom shrugged. "Just do it."

Dawnpaw nodded and shut her eyes, reaching within her mind. She passed by her own thoughts, passed her memories, toward the gaping hole that Sootclaw had left behind. The apprentice approached it tentatively, feeling an aura of pain surround her. Gently touching a loose thread, she was hit by a sudden wave of agony. Dawnpaw let out a cry, feeling herself be thrown backward. Her eyes flew open with a start.

"Try again," said Shredtail gently. He was watching her intently, face impassive.

She nodded and took a deep breath, diving back into her mind. This time, she was slower to approach the gap. Looking at it from above, Dawnpaw drank in the sight. Where the rest of her mind was surrounded by a thick, glossy membrane, the gap was ripped. Silvery filaments floated out from papery thin flesh, extending into a vast nothingness. That was exactly it, a nothingness. The she-cat had no other words to describe what she saw.

She couldn't call it black, for it had no colour; couldn't call it cold, for it had no feeling. It was just there, a grand emptiness. Dawnpaw wondered if it had always been there, existing on the other side of her mind, this whole time. The thought scared her beyond belief, that she was a membrane away from dissolving into nothing.

Hesitantly, the she-cat leapt forward. The gap shrilled with pain as she moved through it, but she set her jaw and continued. The threads reached up and tugged at her, begging her to stay, and Dawnpaw wished she could just fold back into her mind and stay there forever. It was a better option than continuing into the beyond. Arriving at the frontier, the ginger apprentice stood on the edge of nothingness, aware that the world was dropping off beneath her feet.

She leapt.

The nothingness swallowed her whole. Dawnpaw found herself falling, watching the silvery sheen of her mind became smaller and smaller as she tumbled away. Eventually she managed to catch herself, finding a precarious point of balance to stop herself from falling further. Was the space infinite, or was it circular? It wasn't a question she wanted to figure out.

The she-cat attempted to propel herself forward. It felt as though she were moving through mud, desperately struggling against the nothingness. _Sootclaw!_ Dawnpaw was desperate for an answer. She called his name many times over, hoping he would somehow be able to hear it. _Sootclaw, can you hear me?_

An idea came to her – she would try and ping him. Dawnpaw concentrated all her willpower on a sharp jolt of energy, sending it out into the darkness. She hoped that it would find him, or at least bounce off of something. The she-cat waited and waited, but there was no return of her signal.

Looking up, she realized that her mind was gone. A sudden panic overtook her and she tried to cry out, only to find that she could make no sound. Desperately, Dawnpaw tried to open her eyes, but it felt like they were glued shut. She was stuck here, trapped until she could find her way back.

She was going to die.

_I'll never see Sootclaw again_, she thought. Then – that was it! When Sootclaw had first found her, he had envisioned himself breaking through a wall of rocks. She just had to do the same thing – she had to turn the nothingness into something she could navigate.

Dawnpaw conjured an image of the ThunderClan camp, mapping it out in front of her. The apprentices den would be her mind, that was easy enough to find, and Sootclaw... he would be in the warriors den. Slightly more confident now, Dawnpaw took a step toward the warriors den. She didn't falter, she didn't fall, she made the step as easily as if she were really there. Then she took another one.

Peeking her head inside the warriors den, she saw only darkness. _Sootclaw?_

At first, there was no reply. Dawnpaw felt fear grip her. What if it didn't work? If Sootclaw wasn't here, then maybe she wouldn't even be in the apprentices den. Maybe she would be trapped here forever, in ThunderClan camp, a ghost in an empty clearing.

The faint outline of another cat began to materialize in front of her. A voice appeared in her mind, distant but recognizable, relieved yet incredulous. _Dawnpaw?_

**x x x**

Sleep was escaping Sootclaw. The tom lay in his mossy nest, muscles sore from a hard day of work. The morning had been spent training Pigeonpaw, always an arduous task, and he had spent the afternoon patrolling the borders, hoping that Thickfur had moved the stick, hoping that there was news.

Dawnpaw's absence grew harder to bear everyday. The wound seemed to widen as time passed, the pain extending further and further into his mind. His memories were becoming hard to access – even the most innocent ones were filled with her face, her glowing amber eyes, her comforting scent. Sootclaw had managed to scoop up his memories of Lilystream and keep them safe, moving them as far from the gap as possible.

It seemed as though his mind was always thinking of the two she-cats. There was Lilystream, the mother of his kits, the she-cat whose intoxicating nature made him weak at the knees, who had been there for him when he had thought all was lost. He loved her smile, her eyes, her laugh, the way she felt when she touched him, and he loved the way she had born his kits, how she had looked with her belly extended, how she had teased away his worries with her reassuring words.

And Dawnpaw, who seemed to hold part of his soul. There was absolutely no way Sootclaw could live without her. And yet... he was a father now. He had a duty to Lilystream and his kits. There was no way he could live without them, either.

His thoughts always came back to them, and he didn't know why. There was some kind of demented pleasure that he gained from it, the same way one continually touches a bruise or puts weight on a twisted ankle. He was addicted to the adrenaline rush of his indecision, and it was killing him. Sootclaw never came to a conclusion, and the thoughts never changed. They were always the same, and he ran them over and over again in his mind, hoping that somehow, they would turn out differently.

Sometimes, when he managed to pull his mind away from the confusion, his thoughts would drift into the dark recesses of his mind and pull out the memories he never wanted to access again: memories of Falconswoop. Even now, he could still see his father fall from the cliff, body impaled by the jagged rocks below. _I should have killed him. _The thought echoed in Sootclaw's mind. _Was I strong enough to do it?_ He would never know.

Sootclaw groaned and pushed his face against his paws, bracing his shoulders against the cold. At least training Pigeonpaw hadn't been too difficult today. The grey-and-white apprentice must have sensed his mentor's bad mood, for he held his tongue and did what he was told with only marginal complaint. Still, Sootclaw worried for him. Nightpaw and Tanpaw were much further along in their training. If they became warriors first, Pigeonpaw would be miserable, and Sootclaw would never forgive himself.

He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, trying to empty his mind. It had almost succeeded, when a sudden tingling sensation came over him. It started in the back of his mind, and he began aware that there was a single silver strand trying to reattach itself to the broken threads where Dawnpaw had once been. The pain was incredible, yet as the sole filament brushes against the waving strands, the resulting feeling send a wave of warmth through his body. _Oh._

And then, from nowhere and everywhere, came a voice. _Sootclaw?_

A rush of joy overtook him, filling him from his toes to his ears. For a moment, he couldn't speak, overwhelmed by sheer happiness. He knew that voice. That was Dawnpaw's voice. His heart threatened to burst in his chest. _Dawnpaw?_ The tom hardly dared to believe it.

The relief in her voice was palpable. _I found you!_ Dawnpaw exclaimed. _Oh, Sootclaw, I've missed you so much._

There was something so raw and pure about her voice that Sootclaw felt colours explode in his mind. He hadn't heard her so honest with him for a long time. There had been a distance between them, a rift caused by Lilystream, and Dawnpaw had seemed far away. But now she was back, and her candidness was back too, and the colours in her voice were so strong that he wanted to drown in her ocean. _I missed you too_, he admitted. _What happened? Where are you?_

Dawnpaw's voice was faint. _I'm... I'm in the Dark Forest. They pulled me down here. It's okay though – there are cats here who are helping me. We're making our way to StarClan._

Shock ran through him. _The Dark Forest?_

_Yes_, she mewed, without hesitation. _It's... it's awful, Sootclaw, but I'm surviving. I'll make my way back to your world._

The smoky grey warrior had no idea what to say. What did you say to someone in a situation like this? Instead, he asked the question that had been weighing on his mind for the length of the conversation. _Can you stay with me?_

There was a long pause, and when she next replied, her voice was torn by grief. _No. I can't stay. I have to go. But... I have something important to tell you._

Sootclaw's chest tightened. He couldn't stand to have her leave him, not again. _I've lost you too many times_, he told her fervently. _Please don't go again. It'll kill me._

He felt the surprise register in her mind, felt her swell against him, buoyed unexpectedly by the sheer emotion of his words. Oh, he had missed this feeling so much. He hadn't felt this close to her since the night of Branchpaw's death, when they had sat side by side, reluctant to ever leave each other. He needed her so desperately and here she was, about to leave him, when he had finally realized, for the umpteenth time, how much he needed her to survive.

_I won't be gone forever_, Dawnpaw promised softly. _But right now, I need you to listen to me. I need you to get a message to Thickfur._

Sootclaw swallowed before nodding solemnly. _I'm listening._

_WindClan has been taken over by the darkness_, Dawnpaw began. _I don't know how. The Dark Forest did something to them. It's StarClan's fault, I think. Like you said, for everything they can do, the Dark Forest gets to do something as well... but the constant intervention of StarClan in our affairs... it's been tearing the boundary apart. They said there's a hole, that cats will be able to go through._

Sootclaw froze. Brambleclaw had explained the process to him, how with every action StarClan took, the Dark Forest was allowed an action of equal nature, yet... he hadn't realized that these actions were pushing their worlds even closer together. As for WindClan, that explained a lot about how they had been acting lately.

_That's not all_, Dawnpaw continued. _WindClan is going to attack ThunderClan in three nights. I need you to warn Thickfur. Please. He's the only one who knows about our link; he's the only one who will believe you._

_ I know, _Sootclaw reassured her. _I've spoken to him. I'll let him know._

_Thank you_, said Dawnpaw. He could feel the relief flow through her. _I... I need to go now, Sootclaw._

_Wait! _The word escaped him before he had time to think. Sootclaw searched desperately for something that would keep her there longer. _Is there anything else?_

She hesitated, and for a moment, Sootclaw thought she would say something, something huge. He could feel it weighing on her mind, could feel it shift as she turned it over, debating on it. It made it all the way to the edge of his mind before she pulled it back, and he found himself desperate to know whatever she had been about to say.

_No_, said Dawnpaw at last, and there was a little bit of heartbreak in her voice. _I have to go now. I'll try to come back. I promise._

And then she was gone.

**XX XX XX XX**

**A/N:** Another chapter! The amount of writing I got done on the weekend is incredible. I'm about to run off and start the next chapter right now, so it'll probably be done by the time you get around to reading this (edit: it is!). I want to thank everybody once more for their fantastic support of this project – we're not even close to finishing, but I wouldn't have gotten this far without all of you. :) My reviewers, you are especially wonderful. Give yourselves a pat on the back!

So Sootclaw and Dawnpaw have reunited. Unfortunately, it was under some pretty nasty circumstances. Attack on ThunderClan, the rending of the fibres of existence, all that trivial stuff. Shredtail was fairly subdued in this chapter, but we'll see some his fierce side again soon, promise. As for Dawn and Soot... the amount of stuff they can do with their mind is fairly incredible. You folks may remember instances where they both reached out and inadvertently touched the minds of others. They don't realize it yet, but there's a lot they need to learn about their power.

Now... a little bit of a heartbreaking end there, I apologize! Things seem to be getting worse and worse for our dear protagonists. Ah well, everything should work out in the end... Key word being should.

Next chapter, as I mentioned earlier, will be Russet and Chantelle. We'll check back in with Baron and his rogues, and hopefully get a better understanding of Alder's situation, as well as a nice dose of Elmheart!

**Dragongabi:** Well in that case, I'll take what I can get. I'm sure you'll enjoy this chapter then. :)

**KittyKat8888:** Good to hear from you again! As for why Fogpaw doesn't pretend... she's too stubborn, haha, and too proud by far. She would never act dishonestly; that would be giving in.

**Juniperleaf of BlazeClan:** No, they won't have a thing. Fogpaw isn't very romantically inclined, and Stripedpaw is loyal to the code. That said, they are going to have to rely on each other if they want to get out of their current situation... it'll be an odd relationship, to be sure. Thanks for your wonderful words!

**Honeycloud of Riverclan:** Grains, or cereals, to be more precise, are really just plants. There's a farm between WindClan and RiverClan, so I'm sure the cats would have been exposed to them.

**monkeyCsaw:** Yeah, Stripedpaw's in a tough position, so he's rather guarded. He may open up later on, we'll see... As for KitexDawn, I'm not adverse to it, I just don't really see much evidence supporting it, haha. Thanks for your fantastic review, by the way :)

**Butterfly that flies at dawn:** Yeah, at the moment, the age difference is a bit much. Dawnpaw's still a bit too young for that, haha.

**Sierraleaf:** I hope you enjoyed this chapter; like you said, it's good to be back with these two.

**Guest:** Nope, haha, they're definitely being controlled!

**Reviewer:** Thank you for the great review :) I really appreciate it.

As a final note, I've started making some playlists for the characters (and pairings). I'm thinking of posting them on my blog (which I made for this trilogy but have never used), along with cover art and explinations for tracks, all that fun stuff. Is that something you guys would be interested in? Please answer that in your review, haha.

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	14. Chapter Twelve

**CHAPTER TWELVE  
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_The night was still, the alleys unusually quiet. An owl flew silently over, spreading its wings and blotting out the stars. The scents of carrion and smoke hung heavily in the air. The narrow streets were slicked with ice, and faint specks of snow floated lazily through the air. There was no wind, not even a slight breeze, just a steady cold that seeped through fur and skin to chill the bone. _

_ Two cats lay in a nook of a courtyard wall, their shelter protected from the wind by a small screen of cardboard. A third cat stood outside, seemingly unbothered by the cold, his golden tail curled over massive paws. He swept his piercing gaze over the courtyard, scanning every inch for possible danger. On such a calm night, he was especially alert._

_ Chantelle lay curled up inside the nook, head resting on her slender black paws. Beside her, Alder rested on his side, languidly telling her all of the things he would do once he became leader. She gave the brown tom her full attention, happy just to be beside him. "I'll whip the patrols into shape," he was saying, "there's too much laziness. You have to reward them for good work, not punish them for the bad."_

_ "I agree," she murmured, though she didn't quite understand all of what he was saying. Alder's mind worked differently than hers or Beck's – it was highly logical, with a train of thought that seemed to veer off the tracks at the slightest detour. Everything made sense to him, however, and she loved the look in his eyes when it did._

_ He rolled over onto his stomach. "I'm actually very excited," Alder confided cheerfully. "My dad's done a great job, but... I'm going to make it better. This is my city, and I'm going to make us the most powerful band of cats that anyone has ever seen."_

_ "That's great," mewed Chantelle truthfully. She inched closer to him, longing for the feel of his fur against hers. "What about after that, though? You have to have an heir as well..."_

_ Alder frowned, eyes clouding. "I suppose I do," he said at last, tilting his head quizzically. Then the tabby let out a short, barking laugh. "Ah well," he mewed, "I suppose I'll cross that bridge when I get to it! I won't need an heir for several more moons."_

_ "Need?" she asked teasingly, though there was a hint of a whine in her voice. A feeling of uneasiness rose up in her stomach, but she forced it back, not wanting to seem weak in front of her friend. "What about want?"_

_ The tom shrugged. "I don't particularly want kits. Then I would have to divide my time between them and the band. I don't think I would be a very responsible father if I was busy all the time. Those kits would deserve better."_

_ Chantelle nodded reluctantly, waiting for him to ask her why she had brought it up. But Alder __seemed oblivious to her thoughts, for he barrelled on, talking enthusiastically about the policies he would enforce if when he was leader. Alder never really asked her about her life, but Chantelle figured it was because her life was so much less interesting than his. Alder probably had more important things on his mind. That was okay – she could live with that._

_ Then, all of a sudden, a terrible cry shattered the unnatural silence. Chantelle leapt to her paws, and Alder sat up, pricking his ears attentively. She shot him a nervous glance, but as always, the tom's eyes were impossible to read. "What was that?" he asked Beck._

_ Beck just shook his head. Though he did his best to keep his composure, his eyes were wide. "I don't know," he rumbled. For the first time, Chantelle didn't find the deep timbre of his voice reassuring._

_ Yowls rose up through the alleys, loud caterwauls that echoed off the walls and the roofs, through the city, a chorus of anger and victory. Chantelle pressed herself against Alder, who was still sitting there, trying to decide what to make of the situation._

_ Out of the alley closest to them ran a scrawny grey tabby, his fur torn, blood weeping from a gash on his flank. He skidded to a stop as he saw them, yellow eyes wild. "Alder!" he cried out, panting with exhaustion. "Alder, you need to get out now!"_

_ "Fletcher!" exclaimed Alder, leaping to his paws. "What is it?"_

_ "It's your father," said Fletcher between ragged gasps. His eyes were starting to dim now, the blood pouring from flank seemingly infinite. It pooled down around his legs and stained his paws. "They've killed him. Baron's killed him."_

_ The chant swelled up from somewhere in the distance, loud and terrifyingly clear. "Baron! Baron! Baron! Kill! Kill! Kill!"_

Chantelle woke with a start. Beside her, Alder stirred in his sleep. She cast a worried glance at the brown tom, not wanting to wake him. When she was sure he was still asleep, the black she-cat carefully rose to her paws, trying to shake off the cold sweat the dream had left on her skin. She shivered as she exited into the ThunderClan camp, wondering who else would be up at this hour.

To her surprise, there were a few cats milling about the clearing. The sun was beginning to rise overhead, casting an orange hue on the thick layer of snow blanketing the ground. Chantelle padded out into the sunlight, grateful for the scant warmth. Feeling slightly better, she cast her gaze around the camp, analyzing all she saw.

Three cats were waiting by the slope out of camp. The first was a large ginger-and-white tom that she recognized as Nettleclaw, the Clan's deputy. He was followed by a long-haired silver tabby, a she-cat nearly as big as Slatestar. The last cat was smaller than the others, a scrawny tom with off-white fur. He was following the silver she-cat around like a kit follows its mother, though Chantelle judged that they were probably mentor and apprentice. The side of her mouth twitched upward into a bemused grin. The Clan certainly had odd customs.

"Good morning," said a voice from behind her. Chantelle whipped around, expecting – or perhaps hoping – to see Alder, but she knew she would have recognized his voice instinctively. Instead, she found herself face-to-face with the golden-brown tabby who had spoken to her earlier. _Elmheart_, she remembered.

"Good morning," replied Chantelle guardedly. "What's going on?"

"Hmm?" Elmheart looked momentarily confused. Then he followed her gaze towards the group of cats, and understanding dawned across his face. "Oh. That's just the dawn patrol going out."

"The deputy goes on patrols too?" she asked.

Elmheart nodded. "Here in ThunderClan, we share the duties."

"Where I was..." Chantelle began, stopping herself when she realized what she was saying. "It just seems... strange to have a cat in a position of power doing menial work, that's all."

He chuckled. "It's not really menial work. Like I said, we share the duties. Everyone puts in equal work, whether it's by patrolling, hunting, or training the apprentices. Even Slatestar goes out. He doesn't just sit in his den all day – he'd get lazy that way! When you're part of a Clan, you look out for each other. That's why we make sure that the elders and kits are fed first."

Chantelle thought back to her dream, to the memory of the conversation she and Alder had shared. "Are you close to your families here?" she mewed.

Elmheart paused, and a flash of pain was momentarily visible in his vibrant green eyes. "Siblings are usually very close," he replied hesitantly. Chantelle felt bad for touching a nerve, and yet it was a new experience to see a tomcat as honest as this with his emotions. The golden tabby took a deep breath before continuing. "As to whether or not we're close with our parents... some are, the rest of us, usually not. You are when you're a kit, but you grow apart. That way it hurts less if your parents don't stay together."

This caught her attention. "Stay together?" she mewed. "Where Alder and I are from... well... we didn't see many toms and she-cats that stayed together. Toms simply came and went, leaving the she-cats to deal with the kits. Love was rare there. But here...it seems common."

Elmheart shrugged. "Sometimes it's there, sometimes it isn't. If you're lucky, you fall in love with a cat of your Clan. If you aren't lucky... you either have kits for the sake of having them, or you don't. It's that simple."

The jovial tone was fading from his voice, but he didn't seem reluctant to share this information with her. It took Chantelle a few moments to realize that this warrior was confiding in her. The sensation was new to her, and it sent a strange spark through her body. "What about your parents?"

"There's a fun story," mewed Elmheart wryly. He looked sideways at her. "I'm sorry if I'm depressing you. I know things are hard enough already, and I don't mean to burden you. I just... I used to have a friend I could talk to about anything, but... not anymore."

"It's fine," Chantelle reassured him. Alder had never talked to her about feelings, had never even opened up before. She had always fought to see past his shell, past the walls he kept putting up. She had been inside them once, and she had loved what she had seen there, yet... seeing it was all too rare. "I don't mind. Your parents?"

"Nettleclaw and Larkflight," mewed Elmheart softly. "They were very much in love. Then they weren't. Well, Nettleclaw was still in love with her. But Larkflight, she moved on. That's all there was to it. We don't talk about it much... there's not a lot of gossip within the Clan. Things happen, you all learn about it, and then you move on. But... he hasn't, you know? He's my father, and I feel close to him. I can see how much it hurts him to look at her."

Chantelle was silent for a very long time. "I'm sorry," she said at last, not knowing what else to do. It was something that Alder would have said – he would have apologized for their trouble, except he himself wouldn't have been affected by it. He would have extended his condolences, but there was no real empathy there, not that he showed. But Elmheart, it hurt him to see his father hurt. He seemed like a strong cat, an emotionally powerful one, yet he was sensitive to the feelings of others.

She really needed to stop comparing everything to Alder. It was probably unhealthy. Yet Chantelle admired the tom so much that she used him as a standard by which to measure every other tom's actions. It startled her how different Elmheart was. The other Clan cats, they had shells too, but Elmheart didn't. He was kind and open, and he trusted her.

"Not your fault," said Elmheart. There was another pause, and then the cheerful grin slid back over his face. "Now then, how about we go hunting? I bet I can catch more than you!"

Chantelle felt her breath hitch in her throat. "Actually," she began, "I'm not really that used to the forest. I find it intimidating."

"Oh." Elmheart paused. Then his brilliant green eyes began to sparkle. "How about I show you around, then? The forest isn't scary at all once you get to know it. I promise it'll be fun."

"Right now?" asked Chantelle nervously.

Elmheart nodded and bumped his shoulder against hers. "Right now. Let's go!"

The black she-cat felt like she would soon regret this, but the warrior's enthusiasm was contagious. She grinned despite herself, infected and enthralled by his good mood. "Alright then," Chantelle said. "Let's go."

.

The forest turned out to be not quite as scary as she had first thought. Elmheart took her to the training hollow first, regaling her with stories of his apprenticeship, when he had been learning how to fight. After that, he lead her to the tallest tree in the whole forest, a great oak that stretched far above the leafy canopy. "I tried to climb that once," Elmheart said as they stood there, staring up at it. "I didn't make it very far before I got scared."

"You, scared?" Chantelle asked teasingly.

He grinned. "Fear is an important emotion for any warrior to have. It keeps us from doing anything too mouse-brained. Come on, I want to show you where I caught my first bird!"

It was a beautiful day outside, Chantelle had to admit. The sun was warm, the snow thick and stable beneath her paws. A goshawk flew above them, leaving a keening note wavering in the air behind it. The rich scents of gorse and bark filled the air around them. Sunlight sparkled off the glimmering ice, illuminating the forest in golden hues.

She turned to look at Elmheart. The golden-brown tabby looked perfectly at ease in the forest, comfortable and confident in his skin. His eyes were radiant as he turned to look at her, his whole body soft and relaxed. "I love days like this," he mewed quietly. "It's like the sun can touch every corner of the forest and chase out all the darkness."

"Elmheart..." Chantelle suddenly didn't know what to say. She only knew that Elmheart was being honest with her and trusting her, and that she wasn't extending the same courtesy to him. "I need to tell you something."

His face contorted into confusion. "What is it?"

"Alder and I..." She took a deep breath. "We're not actually mates. We just said that so you would feel sorry for us and take us in. The rest is true, though – we really do need shelter and food, and we will be moving on soon."

There was a very long silence, and the she-cat could tell that Elmheart was weighing his words carefully. The golden tabby had a pensive look on his face, almost torn. Chantelle felt her pace quicken with nervousness, though at least she couldn't see any outward signs of anger. Elmheart seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve, so that was a good sign...right?

"I can't say I'm happy to hear that," Elmheart said at last, voice grave, "but I appreciate your honesty. I won't tell Slatestar about this, but I think you should. As for Alder... you're not mates... but you still love him. I can tell."

"How do you know?" asked Chantelle quickly, words escaping her mouth in desperation. Her face was burning with embarrassment now. Were her feelings that obvious to everyone around? What did they think? Did they feel bad for her, assuming Alder would never love her back? She wanted to bury her head in the snow.

"It's not hard to tell," said Elmheart offhandedly. When he saw the look of mortification on her face, his eyes went wide with horror. "No, Chantelle, I'm sorry! I don't think any less of you, I swear. I had feelings for a she-cat that didn't return them once too. I know that it's awful and I know it makes you want to die. Please believe me when I say that I'm not judging you!"

His words made her feel slightly better. Chantelle moved closer toward him, and Elmheart mirrored her, taking a few cautious steps in her different. Then she leaned forward and pressed her muzzle to his cheek, inhaling his scent. It was different than Alder's, muskier, with an earthy flavour. She could scent the snow, scent the leaves, all the different trees, the whole forest – and it was all on his skin.

Elmheart had frozen beneath her touch. Reluctantly, Chantelle moved back. "I'm sorry," she said, unable to explain her actions. "I just... I wanted to feel you."

The ThunderClan warrior bent down, locking his gaze with hers. His eyes, filled with confusion and longing and perhaps guilt, searched hers. "Chantelle," he mewed, voice hoarse. There was some sort of desperation in his voice, a raw desire. Not in the way a tom wants a she-cat, but in the way that a cat wants to be loved, to be touched, to be cared for. "I never meant to give you the impression..."

"No," she reassured him hastily. "You never did. I just thought..."

Then he was pressing his body against hers, pulling her against him with his tail. Chantelle placed her head against his chest, sighing as she felt his chin rest against the top of her skull. Being enveloped like this, wrapped in his scent and warmth, it was overwhelming. A small part of her wished she could stay there forever. "Well then," mewed Elmheart, "don't think."

**x x x**

"Glad you could join us, Russet." Baron's voice was pure silk. The reddish-brown tom was sitting at the base of a large granite rock, half-hidden by the stone's shadow. Around him sat a circle of his most trusted fighters. Flynn and Carrionpaw sat closest to their leader, while three others finished the circumference of the group. Russet recognized Steam, with his ragged white pelt and grey tail, along with Zero, a massive black tomcat. The last cat was Anya, the she-cat who reminded him of Lilypaw. Hard and lean, she had the same silvery-blue fur and intelligent yellow eyes, though her pelt was crossed by scars.

Russet approached the circle slowly. Anya and Zero moved aside to make room for him, and he sat between them, keeping his shoulders straight and his gaze hard and flat. It would not do to show weakness, not now. His plan was simple enough: kill Alder, replace Needle as Baron's second-in-command, and move on with his new life. The only thing standing in his way were the Clans.

Of course it would come back to them.

"How was your hunt?" asked Baron. The tom had given him the responsibility of leading a hunting patrol through the wooded fields. Russet had felt uncomfortable with the task at first, especially considering how short his time here had been so far, but he soon controlled the patrol with ease. Leadership came naturally to him.

"It went well," he mewed steadily. "We caught enough. A few mice, a rabbit, and a pheasant."

Nodding in approval, Baron fixed him with a pallid gaze. "Notice anything unusual?"

Russet was ready with his response. "A stale scent of badger. It's probably been gone for a quarter moon now. Nothing to worry about, but we should still be on guard."

"Good," said Baron softly. He lifted his searching stare from Russet's face and turned to address the group at large. "Now, the reason that I have called you all here. You six are the only ones who know the truth of our journey – that we are seeking Alder, the son of the former leader. He poses a threat to my son, Shaw. That cannot be allowed. We believe he is taking refuge with the Clans – ThunderClan, to be exact. That's where Steam traced his scent."

In the past week of travel, they had made considerable ground. The rogue force was now sitting on the hill above the lake, patiently biding their time. The others were beginning to be more vocal, wondering what was going on, and Russet knew that Baron would have to address them soon. But for now, he was content to share his plans with only his elite fighters – and Russet was proud to count himself among them.

"What do we do?" asked Zero, his bass voice echoing off the stone.

Baron looked at him in silent approval. His grey eyes betrayed no emotion, but the tilt of the chin gave away his thoughts. "Now we go to them. We give them a choice: give us Alder, or we'll take him by force."

By force. They might have to fight ThunderClan. Russet's stomach felt queasy at the thought. He supposed he should be happy that it was ThunderClan, yet there was a small part of him that wished it was RiverClan. He longed to see his former Clanmates again, to rub his success and power in their face. _I wanted to protect you_, he would scream, _and you rewarded me with exile. Are you happy now?_ He would take all of Toadstar's lives one by one, peeling back the tom's skin, making his blood run through the rushes...

Another part of him wished it was ShadowClan, just so he could see Sootclaw bleed.

Baron turned to Flynn. "I'm entrusting you with this," he mewed softly. "You and Anya. Give them my ultimatum. In the meantime, we'll prepare for battle."

** XX XX XX XX**

**A/N:** I have now written three chapters in two days. This has to be some kind of record for me! I'm really happy with this one. I didn't expect so much to happen between Chantelle and Elmheart, but...they're both hurting. Chantelle has never been physically close to Alder before, and Elmheart, well, he hasn't felt wanted for a very long time. Elmheart is a cat who has always been very open about his emotions, and he's confused now. He likes being liked, effectively, and he wants someone to care for. Chantelle...she's nervous and insecure. She's latching on.

Next chapter, we see the result of the rogues' decision from Kitetail's POV! He talks to Alder a little bit more – after all, someone has to. We also check back in with Grainstar and see how he's making out as he enters RiverClan. I'm really excited for his storyline, and he's also given me the idea for yet another new character, though this time he'll be having an impact on ShadowClan...

Well, review response time!

**Coqui's Song:** You are the worst kind of evil, yes you are. Thanks for finally reviewing, though, it's really great to hear from you again! D'aww, yeah, poor Sootclaw. I wonder what would have happened if she had told him. I don't even know if his mind could have processed it.

**monkeyCsaw:** I'm really glad you can see the characters growing! It's something that I aspire to do, but I'm not always conscious of it. I think they just evolve in my mind and I hardly notice. It was actually Prin Pardus who gave me the blog idea, so I'm seriously considering it. I'd love to have pictures and theme songs up for all of my babies.

**Sierraleaf:** Now now, we wouldn't want to make poor Sootclaw jealous, would we? Elmheart and Dawnpaw...their story is definitely unresolved as of right now, and I promise I won't leave them hanging like this.

**KittyKat8888:** Shredtail and Worm... they're definitely not good characters, to be sure. I'm glad you can't make up your mind about Shredtail, though, it shows my plan is working ;) Thanks for the fantastic review!

**Butterfly that flies at dawn:** Thanks!

**Thunderous Intentions:** Thank you for the great comment, I'm really happy you see her that way :)

**Justsmile77:** Put out an ad on the internet, mindlink penpal wanted, haha. Thanks for the fantastic review! Now, if you had a mindlink with someone...what would your colours be? How do you think your feelings would be expressed? I'm curious. :P

**Dragongabi:** You're amazing, you know? Thank you so much for your kind words :) Maybe in the future, Dawnpaw will express her feelings...then again, maybe not.

**Thistlethorn of Shadowclan:** In that case, I'll work on it! Glad you liked the heartbreak bit, it killed me a little to write.

**Juniperleaf of BlazeClan:** Careful now, I happen to be a ginger too, haha! In all honesty, Dawnpaw is the one cat I have never been able to fully picture. The others? Easy peasy. Dawnpaw - not a clue, apart from the basics. It's odd. The void is a fantastic word for it, I was always stuck on how to describe it, so thanks. Lastly, I really don't mind the rambling, so feel free to continue.

**The Last Clan:** I think that was a good thing that it was heartbreaking? :P Thanks for the review, glad to see you back!

**Honeycloud of RiverClan:** Aww, that's sweet, thanks!

**Gottalove:** Hmm, Shredtail and Thickfur do have their similarities, though in the end, I think that Thickfur is a far more selfless character... but I'm not sure if Dawnpaw realizes that yet, haha. Thank you for the fantastic review; I'm blushing. :D

I'll hopefully have a playlist for one of the main characters (most likely Soot) done by the next chapter.

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	15. Chapter Thirteen

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN  
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_Grainstar_. That was his name. He was sure of it now, as sure of it as he was the ground beneath his paws. The tom had tried on others, slipping them over his skin, testing them out – he had tried to be Sleetfur, to be Antlerclaw, Chippedfang, Goldenear... but the name Grainstar fit him far better than all the rest. It was comfortable and slightly worn; it wrinkled where he wrinkled, expanded where he did, and carressed him like an old friend. The other names... they must have belonged to cats he knew, or had known, but he couldn't recall their faces no matter how hard he tried.

So he was Grainstar.

The golden tom made his way through RiverClan territory, pausing occasionally to revel in the vividness of his sense. The air was so cold, the scents so full, the colours so rich. He wondered if he would ever get used to this. His mind was waking up, thoughts beginning to quicken, but there was a part at the back of it that was still shut off. The only thing he knew was that this was RiverClan territory; it was home, and he hadn't been home for so long.

_There was a storm_. That was the last thing he could remember. Thunder booming above him, spikes of lightning driving through the grey skies, heavy rain pounding the ground beneath his paws, and the terrible winds that howled in his ears. The wind had been the worst, knocking down the trees, flattening everything in its path.

It was raining now, but the rain was light, a soft drizzle that stained his face and back. Once he might have minded or been uncomfortable, when he was naught but a downy golden kit huddling in the nursery, but that had been a long time ago. The tom was a RiverClan cat; his glossy pelt was made for the water.

All around him, the flat earth was covered in a hard layer of snow. Rushes poked up through the white crust, their slender heads covered by frost. A stunted maple tree rose up above him, its bare branches foreboding against the grey leafbare sky. There were no discernible landmarks, only the shine of the lake in the distance, but Grainstar knew his way around by instinct. He knew every inch of ground in the territory; could feel the difference in every pawstep. The tom was guided by his paws, and his paws knew exactly where they were going – home.

They would be glad to see him, he was sure. If only he could remember more about the others and where they had gone... Sleetfur's name pounded in his mind, followed by Antlerclaw's. Would they be back already? Maybe they would know more than he did. Maybe they would remember. A pair of vivid blue eyes flashed in his mind, terrified and frantic. Then they were gone and Grainstar's thoughts were empty once more.

His stomach rumbled with hunger, but he didn't stop to hunt. He didn't have the time. He could eat later, once everything was sorted out. There was a desperate need to return pounding in his head. Part of his body felt rent, torn by loss. _Why?_ Grainstar wondered, wishing he could explain why he felt this way.

There was a rustling in the bushes behind him and the snapping of a twig. Grainstar stopped, immediately alert. It must have been a RiverClan cat, the salty scent floating towards him was proof of that, but he didn't understand why they didn't just identify themselves. They had nothing to be frightened of – he was their leader, for StarClan's sake!

"Dismal day, isn't it?" he remarked loudly, staying as calm as possible. What was going on?

"A great day for trespassing, it seems," mewed another voice, cold and flat.

Grainstar turned to see a tom padding out of the bushes behind him. The newcomer was well-built and muscular, with a sleek pale tabby pelt. He was handsome, to be sure, but there was a frigidness to his eyes that bothered the golden tom. "Hello," he mewed.

The pale tabby narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

Confusion was blossoming within Grainstar's mind, but he kept it confined, making sure his face was as neutral as possible. Hiding emotions was something you learned when you spent moons as leader. "Grainstar of RiverClan."

The tabby looked like he had been struck. "What?" he managed to spit out, disbelief filling his pale amber eyes. "You think I would really believe that?"

Grainstar paused. "Why not?" he asked carefully.

"Why not?" repeated the tom mockingly. "You really want to know why not?" His voice was scathing.

Still keeping his cool, Grainstar nodded.

The RiverClan warrior flattened his ears. "Because Toadstar is our leader, and I'm his deputy. Reedthroat. I don't know what you think you're up to, but this isn't the time for games. You'll find we aren't very patient right about now."

Now it was Grainstar's turn to react as though he had been hit. The breath felt like it had been knocked from his lungs. Desperately, he searched for words. "No," was all he could say. "I don't understand. Who... who's leader of ThunderClan? ShadowClan? WindClan?"

"Slatestar. Eaglestar. Willowstar," said Reedthroat, listing them curtly. "Now, answer the question – who are you really?"

This didn't make any sense. Those weren't the proper leaders. Mountainstar led WindClan, ruling it with an harsh paw. Grainstar could remember him standing against the blazing sunset, long brown fur whipping in the wind. Then there was Talonstar of ShadowClan, the skinny grey tabby whose mind and intelligence had been worth three times any other cat's. And – his heart lurched at her name, spinning out of control for a brief moment – Spiderstar of ThunderClan. The calico she-cat had held her own against the toms, even besting them multiple times, he remembered with slight amusement.

"What about Rowanfur?" Grainstar said at last, remembering the young deputy he had left behind to take care of his Clan. She had only been eighteen moons, but her eyes had sparkled so brightly, so confidently... the tom had had nothing but confidence in her.

This set Reedthroat aback. "Rowan..._star_?" he asked quietly.

Grainstar nodded, glad he had gained some ground. "My deputy. Brown fur, long-legged, stern but fair."

"Your... deputy," repeated Reedthroat, with some difficulty. He narrowed his eyes. "Rowanstar was my leader."

_Was_. That word hit home. Grainstar felt his stomach clench with pain. This was starting to make sense. They must have assumed he was gone, lost for good, and named Rowanfur as leader. But something had happened. She hadn't lasted long. Maybe it was his fault, for choosing her so young. "You said was. What happened to her? I can't believe it..."

"It was old age that stole her last life," said Reedthroat quietly. "Nothing more."

"Old age..." Grainstar trailed off. She had been eighteen moons when he had left, setting off on his mission with Sleetfur and the others. Now she had died of old age. His earlier question struck him again, this time in full force. _How long was I asleep?_

Something seemed to have occurred to Reedthroat. The RiverClan deputy looked as though he was doing his best to force the thought done, but it came bubbling up nevertheless. "You said your name was Grainstar. The Grainstar? The one who went to the Twolegplace and never came back?"

Hope stirred in Grainstar's heart. "You've heard of me."

"In stories told by the elders," Reedthroat admitted grudgingly. "But you were the leader before Rowanstar. How are you still alive?"

The flax-coloured tom's mouth went dry. He looked down, suddenly feeling small. "I don't know," he mewed at last, wondering if the tabby would believe him. "I remember a storm and then waking up here. That's it."

_ And I remember Spiderstar_. He didn't say that part, but the more he thought about her, the more she appeared inside his head. The tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat had never failed to bring a smile to his face at Gatherings, casting him a short glance from across the island, her eyes glinting mischievously. ThunderClan had prospered under her. In fact, all the Clans had lived in prosperity at that time. Then Mistkit had gone missing...

"You should come back to camp with me," said Reedthroat authoritatively. The cold mask was back over his eyes now, the unsureness completely vanished. His next word was pointed. "_Please._"

"Fine," mewed Grainstar. He obliged, following the pale tabby as they turned and walk toward camp. He was still trying to wrap his head around what was going on. He had come back to RiverClan, yet it seemed that he was many, many moons in the future.

As they padded through the brush, though, there were only two things present on his wandering mind: two pairs of eyes, one a scared blue, the other a sparkling amber.

**x x x**

It happened almost too fast for Kitetail to process. One moment, the cats of ThunderClan were milling around in the camp clearing, sharing tongues and eating prey, and the next, there was a newcomer at the top of the slope. This new cat was well-built, rather handsome, with creamy fur and broad shoulders. He stood with confidence, not fazed at all by the number of warriors sitting below. The rank smell of smoke rolled off his pelt.

Nettleclaw reacted first, leaping to his paws. "Who are you?" he demanded, obviously on edge. It wasn't everyday that new cats just appeared in ThunderClan camp. Somehow, this rogue had managed to avoid the patrols.

"Flynn," said the cream-coloured tom cheerfully, moving toward them. His tone was airy enough, but he carried himself confidently, body postured almost threateningly. "And you?"

The deputy hesitated, unsure how to react. Anger sparked in his eyes, but he held himself firm. Unfortunately, Beechclaw, sitting to his left, didn't have the same restraint. The light brown tabby threw himself at the newcomer, bowling Flynn over. They rolled down into the clearing, hissing and yowling. Beechclaw had his teeth firmly dug into Flynn's shoulder, but the cream tom was stronger. He flipped them both over and tore himself away, placing one paw down hard on Beechclaw's throat. The ThunderClan warrior tried to spit up, but only made an awful choking noise.

Then Grasscloud was there with a hard swipe to Flynn's muzzle. The cream-furred tom recoiled and Grasscloud continued, striking his face as he moved back. Beechclaw got back up on his paws and joined her. Together, the two of them backed Flynn against one of the quarry's looming walls. When his back was pressed against the stone, they paused.

"Now what?" challenged Beechclaw. The tom's voice was taunting; he had clearly pushed his earlier humiliation aside.

Flynn smirked. Kitetail, who was watched the scene with wide eyes, found himself frustrated by the tom's easy arrogance. He would have loved to wipe the smirk off Flynn's face. The tabby found himself imagining Falconswoop in the rogue's place, with his terrible grin, and shuddered.

The rogue just shrugged. "You don't want to hurt me; trust me on that."

"He's right, you know," called a new voice. Kitetail looked up to see a grey-blue she-cat at the top of the slope, gazing down at them humourlessly. As they watched in stunned silence, she bounded down to join Flynn. "Hurting him would only make things a hundred times worse for all of you. I'm Anya, by the way."

Beechclaw spat on the ground by Flynn's feet. Disgust flashed across the cream tom's face, but he made no move to react. "Give me one good reason not to mess up your pretty face," the ThunderClan tom snarled.

"I'll give you more than one." This voice was quieter than all the others, yet it carried a confidence and solemnity that drew the attention of clearing. Alder stepped forward from the shadows, his face grave. Behind him stood Beck, ears flat and neck fur bristling. Of Chantelle, there was no sign.

Kitetail looked at the loners in confusion. The rest of ThunderClan seemed to share his lack of understanding, for they had fallen completely silent, watching as Alder padded toward the rogues. Something lurched deep in Kitetail's stomach, some feeling of betrayal, of disgust.

"Ah, Alder!" crowed Flynn. "I was wondering when you would show your face."

"You know him?" Slatestar had emerged from his den, drawn by all the noise. The grey tabby swung his massive head back and forth, taking it both Alder and Flynn with a sharp gaze. His voice was cool, and there was a threatening tone to it, a frigid warning that set Kitetail on edge. This was Slatestar as he was meant to be, ThunderClan's leader, with all the authority of StarClan itself. Even Flynn seemed to hesitate upon seeing the large tom.

"Oh, has Alder neglected to tell you about us?" asked Flynn, leaping on the weakness like a vulture to a corpse. Something glinted in his dark eyes. "I wonder why that is."

"Flynn," said Alder softly.

Slatestar took a step forward. "What's going on?" he asked, voice low and threatening.

"Here's the thing," mewed Flynn, casually licking his chest to straighten the ruffled fur, "Alder here is wanted. Badly. He needs to answer to our leader, Baron. So why don't you let him come with us now, nice and easy, and you'll never have to see my pretty face again."

"And what is Alder wanted for?" said Slatestar calmly. His gaze, trained on Flynn, flickered over to Alder for a brief moment. Kitetail wondered what was going through his leader's mind. Even he had trouble understanding this. There were cats who were after Alder, dangerous cats. Why?

"It's complicated," said Anya. Though her voice was cheerful, the she-cat was tense, the fur on her neck bristling.

"It's not complicated at all," said Alder, padding up to Slatestar's side. "These cats belong to a group of city cats run by Baron. He took charge after he killed my father. Now he wants me out of the picture as well. If you give me up, he'll kill me."

Flynn laughed, loud and mocking. "Alder! You didn't tell them this before? You put this whole Clan in danger and you honestly think that they'll keep you? Why don't you just show me your throat now and dispense with all this trouble."

"Actually," said Slatestar, deep timbre echoing off the quarry walls, "we will be keeping Alder and his companions. So run back to your leader and tell him he'll have to go back to the Twolegplace without his prize."

Flynn spat on the ground angrily. "Have it your way – for now. I'm giving you three days, Slatestar. If Alder doesn't show up at our camp on the hills in three days, we'll show up right here and take him from you by force."

Slatestar flattened his ears. "We'll be waiting."

The two toms stared at each other, sparks of hostility jumping between them. Eventually Flynn turned and left, followed by Anya. They strode out of camp and into the woods without looking back.

The ThunderClan leader turned to Nettleclaw. "Take Grasscloud and make sure that they leave." Then Slatestar padded away, as if to return to his den.

Alder stopped him before he could pass through the moss curtain. "Why did you say you would protect me?" he asked softly. Kitetail could hear the hint of disbelief in his voice.

Slatestar froze. He answered with his eyes firmly fixed on the ground, refusing to give Alder the courtesy of his glance. "ThunderClan is a Clan of honour. We do not negotiate with cats like that. We must stay strong." With that, he pushed through the moss, leaving the clearing in stony silence.

Alder looked dumbfounded, a mix of emotions playing over his usually neutral face. There was relief, knowing he would be protected, and yet Kitetail could tell that there was indignation at the way Slatestar had treated him. The brown tabby understood his leader's anger – Alder had put him in an impossible situation.

It was only once the others began to return to sharing tongues that Kitetail realize his leader had never introduced himself. How had the cream rogue known his name?

x x x

Kitetail waited until dusk to find Alder. The brown tom had gone out for a hunt, and the medicine cat had slipped out after him, intent on a private conversation. There was anger burning through him, anger at the situation that the loners had put his Clan – and leader – in. He wanted to get to the bottom of this and just make Alder _understand_ what he had done. The unjust nature of it all was boiling his blood.

He caught up to Alder as the tabby loner was burying his mouse. The tom looked up as Kitetail approached, eyes wide in surprise. "How can I help you?" he mewed, mask sliding back over his face, voice growing cooler with each syllable.

"I want to talk," said Kitetail icily. "About what happened."

Alder scoffed. "You're the first one who's had the courage to come up to me."

_I'm not courageous_. Kitetail narrowed his eyes, ignoring the tom's words. "Tell me if I'm wrong: you were running away from Baron, who wanted to kill you, and so you sought shelter here."

"Yes," said Alder calmly.

"But you knew he was following you."

Alder paused. Then: "Yes."

"And that he would stop at nothing to kill you."

Another pause. "Yes."

"You knew this was going to happen and you didn't tell us?" Kitetail was yelling now, voice filled with frantic desperation, but he couldn't care less. They had all trusted the loners, all let them in, and now it turns out these cats were returning the favour by bringing danger down upon them.

"We'll go," said Alder calmly. He flicked his tail, gesturing off into the trees. "We'll run. Leave. Whatever you want. I didn't expect them to follow us this far."

"This isn't about what you expected!" snapped Kitetail. A small part of him was surprised the whole forest couldn't hear him. "This is about what's happening! We took you and in and now you're our responsibility. We can't just give you up or let you go! We have to fight for you – it's about honour, and you took advantage of that."

"I'm sorry," Alder told him evenly.

The blatancy of the lie, and the blase nature with which Alder told it, infuriated Kitetail. Blood rushed, steaming, through his veins. He felt like he was about to burst at the anger and injustice of it all. "No you're not! Don't even pretend that you're sorry! You knew this might happen and you didn't care! Do you understand the danger that you've put our Clan in? Was it worth it?"

"Kitetail," began Alder, and this time, there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. Kitetail could tell that the brown loner wasn't used to being yelled at. The thought gave him a heady sense of power, though the rush of victory was mixed with a torrent of guilt.

"No," Kitetail cut him off. "I want you to tell me right now – do you consider your life more important than every one of ours?"

"It's not about that," said Alder, trying to deflect the question. He was pleading, Kitetail realized, obviously uncomfortable with being attacked like this. For the diplomat that he claimed to be, Alder was not experienced with dealing with diversity. It made sense – if he had been an important cat, if that was the reason Baron wanted him, then perhaps no one had ever told him no before.

"Every single cat in ThunderClan is going to risk their lives to protect you, even though it's the last thing they want. That's what loyalty is – they trust in Slatestar and they listen to him. I would be surprised if you had even an ounce of that same loyalty in your bones! You're worth nothing, Alder. You're worth nothing and yet we still can't give you up. I hope you're happy!"

"Kitetail!" Alder's voice cracked and the note carried, pleading, through the trees. But Kitetail didn't care. He turned, and with an angry sweep of his tail, began to stalk through the forest. He needed to get back to ThunderClan and prepare his herbs for the battle.

**XX XX XX XX**

**A/N:** Hey guys...well...it's been awhile. A long while. I've actually had this written for months, which is the absolutely embarrassing part. It is NaNoWriMo right now, so I won't be updating again until December. I have exams starting on the 3rd, but I think I'll get some writing time in somehow. I get home on the 14th (day after my birthday!) and should have tons of writing time. I will need to reread the story before I can continue it, and my writing might be absolutely terrible, but I will do my best!

I did promise to finish, after all.

I will admit, I'm hopelessly in love with Grainstar at the moment. Poor guy doesn't know what's going on, only that things aren't as they should be. Also, I hate to fall prey to all the forbidden love stereotypes, so I promise to handle his romantic attachments with maturity and care!

As for Kitetail, well, he's a little freaked out at the moment. Lost his cool at Alder, which is definitely unusual for him. He's usually so quiet and reserved, but if there's one thing he hates, it's injustice. It's what drove him absolutely crazy when Falconswoop would pick on him. He hates being taken advantage of, and he won't let Alder do the same thing and get away with it.

I want to say how much I love you guys. What you're doing in inspiring me is beyond words. I couldn't have done any of this without every single one of you.

I will keep review replies short so I can upload this even faster!

**Juniper1919**: I'm a little sad to admit I've never really sat down to read me some Prin Pardus :( One day, I'll make time for that. I'm really glad you enjoyed the previous chapter, and I hope you're reading this now :)

**Ranger of the Forest:** Thanks for the review :) Yeah, Elmheart and Chantelle... they're not exactly set up to succeed.

**KittyKat8888**: Elmy has feelings all over the place haha, poor guy. Thanks for the review - I'm glad you're intrigued by Grainstar!

**Fawndapple1359**: Thank you so much!

**zestia240**: Thanks! Yeah, I tried to expand on the Dark Forest - there's so many possibilities with it. Trust me when I say that Shredtail definitely has more layers to him, haha. And gosh, I'm not why everyone loves Kitetail so much. Don't get me wrong, I love him too - it's good to know I'm doing something right.

**Justsmile77**: Yeah, Alder needed the wake-up call, haha. Thanks for the great review :)

**Coqui's Song**: I'm glad you like Russet - I love him too. I shouldn't, he's such a bad guy right now haha, but I can't help it. Thanks for starting to review again - sorry I didn't post more chapters for ya!

**Dragongabi**: Thanks for the wonderful review :) I hated breaking poor Elmy's heart, but it was the only thing to do.

**Frostfeather**: Thanks for that last review - without it, I probably wouldn't have had the inspiration to update again. You're a really dedicated fan and words cannot express how grateful I am.

**DracoBlitzen**: Hehe, thanks! Always nice to know what people ship - that's probably my favourite part of the reviews.

**Anonymous**: Please don't kill me! She'll find someone at some point haha.

Another chapter should be up in a few weeks, folks. If you're reading this now, thanks for sticking with me!

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	16. Chapter Fourteen

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

There was no sun that day. The clouds, low and grey and ominous, blanketed the sky and kept the light away from the world of the Clans. Hail pellets as hard as rocks fell from the sky, whipped by the blustering wind at the helpless cats below. The weather was miserable, and Thickfur wanted nothing more than to curl up in his den and sleep until newleaf, but he dragged himself through the forest, through the ever-climbing snow, to the ShadowClan border. He needed know if the branch had moved. He was desperate for a sign, a hint, anything at all. The hope that burned in his chest was slowly being extinguished, but he knew he would drag himself to this spot no matter what, even if he was nothing more then ragged scraps of fur overlying frozen bones.

He made his way out of the camp with relative ease. The snow on the slope was hard and firm, packed down by countless pawsteps. Once out in the forest, it was clear the snow was not as stable as it looked. Thickfur found himself breaking the icy crust and plummeting into the chilling drifts. Droplets of snow melted on his skin and turned his fur into an itchy mess. He grumbled to himself, silently cursing StarClan every time he had to manoeuvre his way out of a snowy trap. Finally, he found solid ground beneath his paws. The forest was treacherous today. He wondered if it was a sign – he was betraying his Clan by meeting with Sootclaw in secret. Perhaps the difficulty of his journey was a reflection on that. Karma. He deserved it. Guilt hit him once again and he shoved it down, sick of emotions. He had promised himself no more of those.

When he arrived at the ShadowClan border, it was hard it make anything out. The clearing was covered in a fine layer of snow. Thickfur narrowed his amber eyes. Whose mouse-brained idea was it to use a _white_ branch as the symbol? Of course a ShadowClan cat would think of that. He snorted and moved closer to the border, searching the ground for any hint of bark.

There. His eyes caught on something. A piece of snow darker than the rest, and ridged, dappled by darker spots. A branch. His chest tightened. His heart leapt into his throat. He forced it down and swallowed his anxiety away. He had to be calm about this. Calm and rational. His usual self. Not this strange, emotional being he had recently become.

Thickfur padded toward the branch, and as he did so, noticed something odd. There wasn't just one branch, but two, no three, no – four! Why would Sootclaw set out four branches instead of the one that they agreed upon? What was the ShadowClan warrior trying to tell him? Was this message something urgent, something that he needed to know right away? He hesitated. He wanted to wait around, to see if Sootclaw showed up, but what if he was seen by a ShadowClan patrol? Thickfur sighed and dug his claws into the snow. It was a risk he was going to have to take.

He sat there, and he waited.

It was only just past sunrise, after all. He could at least wait until sunhigh without arousing any suspicion from his Clanmates. He would say he had been hunting, if anyone noticed his absence. Sighing, Thickfur curled his tail around his paws and sat still as a rock, waiting – no, hoping – that Sootclaw would appear.

He drank in the scents of the forest. The air was cold, the kind of bitter chill that scalded the inside of his mouth and nostrils. ShadowClan scent was strong here, acrid and tangy, though he had become somewhat more accustomed to it in the past moon. Above him, a lone bird sang a soft, sad melody. He raised his amber eyes and saw it take off from a nearby branch, now nothing more than a dark silhouette across the carbon sky.

Despite his dense fur and layers of muscle, the tom shivered. The cold was infiltrating, seeping underneath his pelt to chill him to the bone. The cool fear that was wrapped around his chest didn't help either. He shuffled his paws, trying to keep warm. He didn't want to make too much noise and draw attention to himself. Where he was now, Thickfur was hidden behind the twisting branches of a thorn bush. No cat would notice him unless they were looking.

Pellets of snow continued to whip at him. Thickfur tried to think of something else, anything to distract him from the tedious wait. His mind drifted to recent events within the Clan: the loners, for one. He had known they were trouble from the very beginning. With the arrival of Flynn and the threat of a battle looming – the injustice of it all made him grit his teeth. Slatestar was risking Dawnpaw's safety, not to mention the safety of the rest of ThunderClan, to protect some loner who had lied to them! He understood why Slatestar had done it, of course. His father was an honourable cat. That, however, didn't make the truth any easier to swallow. Thickfur would spend the battle outside the medicine cat's den. A stab of guilt hit him. He should be helping his Clan prepare for the battle, not lurking by the ShadowClan border.

But this was more important. The guilt was starting to eat at him and he shoved it aside. Thickfur was no good with dealing with guilt. He hadn't been as a kit, when his mother... well, when all of that had happened, and he wasn't good at dealing with it now. He closed his eyes and saw his mother's face clearly in his mind, as if it had been just yesterday. _I'm sorry_. He had stopped saying it out loud long ago. It didn't change anything. It never would.

Thickfur extended his claws and began to churn the snow below him. He would rather think about the hail assaulting him than bring those memories to mind. He forced himself to thick of other things, mundane things.

_Where are you, Sootclaw?_ He hoped he wasn't making a mistake by waiting. Dawnpaw's face flashed in his mind, humiliated, ashamed, angry. Thickfur bowed his head. He was doing this for her. It was his duty to protect her, after all. It was duty, nothing more.

_Come on. _Thickfur needed to know what those branches meant.

**x x x**

The whole Clan was preparing for the battle. Slatestar's strategy was simple: they would force the rogues to come down the main slope, and then they would trap them in a bottleneck. Cats were hard at work at the top of the quarry, blocking off all other entrances to the camp, most notably the small trail that led behind the medicine cat's den. They were also adding debris to the main entrance, so the rogues would be forced to come only one or two at a time.

As far as plans went, it wasn't bad.

Kitetail watched from his den. He was instructing two of the apprentices, Galepaw and Mousepaw, on how to make poultices and other remedies for injured cats. They were helping him prepare a stock in case the battle didn't go as planned. The siblings were more helpful than he had expected. Galepaw was shaping up to be a fine warrior. The off-white tom had a stoic air, but there was a keen willingness to learn shining in his eyes. Mousepaw was more nervous, but the she-cat was intelligent, and talkative once you pushed through her shell.

Looking out in the clearing, he saw Slatestar pad through the moss curtain and into his den. Kitetail froze for a moment. He needed to talk to the leader desperately. He needed to understand Slatestar's decision. He knew others in the Clan were questioning it as well, but they would never disobey one of Slatestar's orders. Or would they? His gaze flickered to Beechclaw, who was grudgingly constructing a barrier by the elder's den. The brown tabby didn't look happy.

"Wait here," he told the apprentices, "and keep working, you're both doing a great job."

Galepaw flicked his tail obligingly. "Yes, Kitetail. Thanks!"

Kitetail padded out of his den and almost immediately regretted his decision when the harsh cold overtook him. It had been warm inside his den, with the body heat of four cats, though Dawnpaw didn't contribute much. Here it was freezing. Luckily the hail had died down since the morning. It was almost sunhigh now, and though the sky was as grey as ever, the snow had cleared.

He approached Slatestar's den and coughed nervously. "Slatestar?"

"Come in," said the tom in his customary rumble.

Kitetail pushed the moss curtain aside and padded into the crevice. Slatestar was curled up in his nest, picking apart a scrawny starling. The medicine cat guessed that was the first thing the tom had eaten in days. Prey was scarce and Slatestar always put the Clan first, making sure everyone else got to eat before he took his share.

"What is it?" asked Slatestar calmly.

"I came to talk to you about Alder," said Kitetail quickly. The brown tabby cursed internally. He was rushing his words. Slatestar could probably tell he was nervous. Medicine cats weren't supposed to be nervous. They were supposed to be calm, composed.

"Kitetail..." said Slatestar, with a sigh. He looked up and met the medicine cat's eyes with his own, his gaze sharp and yellow. "I've made my choice."

"I know," said Kitetail, again more quickly than he had intended. "That's not what I wanted to talk to you about it. I'm not here to try and change your mind." He thought of his conversation with Alder last night and winced. He wanted to hate the loner, but couldn't. He was infuriated by him, but there was another emotion there. Perhaps... no, not pity. It couldn't be pity. Why would he feel that way about Alder?

Slatestar nodded. "Continue then."

"I'm just..." Kitetail took a deep breath. "I'm just curious as to why you made that decision. You made it so quickly."

"I'm not happy about it," said Slatestar softly. "If I could go back in time, I would turn them away. I accepted them because... I thought StarClan had something to do with it. I thought they could help with hunting, and with WindClan, if anything went wrong. You know ThunderClan does not turn away cats in need."

"I know," said Kitetail again. "You don't need to justify your decisions to me."

"No, I don't," mewed Slatestar, but there was no sharpness in his words. "But as it happened, I did grant them shelter here. I offered them our protection – _my_ protection. I can't just take that away. Alder would have been killed if I had given him up. Don't get me wrong, Kitetail – I don't value his life over any cat of ThunderClan's. But I had to do the honourable thing. In effect, I didn't have a choice."

"Alder put you in an impossible situation," mewed Kitetail.

"I don't like it, and I don't like him," said Slatestar. "But there's nothing else I can do. Once the battle with the rogues is over, we can deal with Alder and his little band."

Kitetail nodded. That made sense. He understood it, even if he didn't like it. He only hoped that the others understood it as well. His mind flashed to Beechclaw and he swallowed nervously. Beechclaw wasn't a bad cat, but his kits were his first priority. It was understandable. Kitetail wondered if anyone had tried to tell him that his Clan was more important than his kits. It probably wouldn't go over very well.

He didn't want to mistrust the tom, but his gut instinct was telling him to keep an eye on the light brown warrior.

"What does Nettleclaw think of this?" he asked, trying to forget about Beechclaw.

Slatestar shrugged. "Nettleclaw hates it just as much as I do. But he understands it better than anyone, I think. We have a duty to these loners."

_A reluctant duty_. Kitetail swallowed. "Aren't you worried that others in the Clan... they might just let the rogues at Alder, when they come?"

Slatestar shook his head. "If they do, then they're a traitor. ThunderClan is an honourable Clan, and I trust all of my warriors with my life. I don't doubt them for a second."

Before Kitetail could think of something to say to that, the moss curtain and Thickfur burst in, his eyes wide. There was a wild look to him, a hint of desperation. He was panting, as if he had just run a great distance. Flakes of snow coated his thick tabby pelt. He took a gulp of air and then paused, as if he had just realized he had interrupted their conversation.

Slatestar narrowed his eyes. "Thickfur, are you alright? What are you doing? I'm talking to Kitetail right now."

"I'm sorry Slatestar," said Thickfur apologetically. "There's something urgent I need to tell you."

"It's alright," said Kitetail quickly. "That's all I wanted to talk about, Slatestar."

"Fine," mewed Slatestar firmly. "Kitetail, if you want to head back to your work..."

Thickfur's composure had slipped back on. He had calmed down considerably now, and his harsh air was back. "Actually," he said, words strangely biting, "I think it would be better if Kitetail stayed."

"Oh. Okay." Kitetail wasn't sure what to think. He moved back to give more room to the grey tom and curled his tail over his paws. He was nervous now. Something must be seriously wrong to rattle the tabby warrior.

Slatestar nodded to his son. "What is it?"

Thickfur took a deep breath. "You know how WindClan has been acting strange recently?"

"Who doesn't?" asked Slatestar wryly.

"I was just at their border – I ended up there while I was hunting," continued Thickfur. "I overheard a pair of warriors. They're – they're going to attack, Slatestar. That's what the silence has been about. They were planning an attack on us all this time. They were just biding their time."

Oh. This was definitely not good. A wild surge of panic gripped Kitetail and he fought it down. Shuffling his paws nervously, the tom frowned. "Are you sure?"

Slatestar glanced between the two of them. "You're completely confident about this, Thickfur?"

The grey tabby nodded. "I'd bet my life on it."

"Alright," said Slatestar, taking charge of the situation. "Do you know when this attack is?"

Thickfur nodded. "You won't like it. It's on the same night as the rogues are attacking."

That took Kitetail's breath away. On the list of things that weren't good, that was near the top. "That's not... that's horrible."

"Actually," said Slatestar, eyes glinting, "that's very, very good. I have a plan."

As Slatestar outlined the details of his idea, Kitetail couldn't help but look over Thickfur. He believed the broad-shouldered warrior about the WindClan attack. He could tell by Thickfur's words that there was no doubt in his mind. Yet something about his story seemed strangely off. Slatestar hadn't noticed it, but Kitetail couldn't shake the creeping feeling that Thickfur was lying.

.

Slatestar called a meeting to inform ThunderClan of their change in plans. Cats gathered around him curiously. Kitetail watched from the medicine cat, half-heartedly rolling the poultices as he listened to Slatestar's speech. He would have to make the herbs to travel somehow. Rolling them up in a broad leaf, perhaps. That was what Birchcloud had always done. Kitetail did it sometimes when he or Slatestar went to the Moonpool, but that was different. Those herbs were specifically for travelling. He had never attempted to transport his supplies before.

Luckily, Galepaw and Mousepaw were there to help him. Though he knew both of them were bent on becoming warriors, he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have an apprentice. He wasn't ready for one, that was for sure. He could barely manage himself as it was. For a moment, the brown tabby wondered if Birchcloud was planning to take on apprentice. Though he knew it would happen sometime, whether now or later, he couldn't help the small surge of jealousy that rose up in his throat like bile.

He didn't want to be _replaced_.

Slatestar was finishing his announcement. "We'll leave tomorrow by sunhigh. That gives us a day to prepare for the journey. It shouldn't be too long or difficult – we're only going up behind ShadowClan territory. When WindClan and the rogues arrive at the empty camp, hopefully they'll end up fighting each other in the confusion."

"When will we return?" called out Grasscloud. The she-cat looked confident in her leader.

Slatestar looked over at her. "We'll send out scouts the morning after the battle. They'll tell us if it's safe to return."

Kitetail nodded to himself. It was a smart plan. Evacuate the camp and let the two fighting factions run into each other. Hopefully, in the confusion, no one would notice that ThunderClan was gone until it was too late. They would need to disguise their scent before they left, of course. Kitetail had a supply of garlic stashed in his den for that purpose.

After Slatestar returned to his den, the cats resumed their duties. Larchstripe and Elmheart went ahead to make sure their evacuation site was secure and see if they could start setting up makeshift dens. Others started hunting, making sure they could bring enough prey with them in case it wasn't safe to hunt.

Kitetail noticed Beechclaw slipping into the nursery. Against his better judgement, he followed the tom, padding across the clearing and pausing just outside the nursery entrance, where he was out of view. Knowing what he was doing was wrong, the brown tabby listened in as the warrior spoke with his mate.

"What are you so worried about?" asked Auburnfur teasingly. "Do you have ants under your fur? I know you're worried, but Slatestar's idea is good. This way, we'll kill two birds with one stone."

"I don't like it," said Beechclaw darkly. "What if the kits aren't strong enough to make the journey? You know how Breezekit is..."

There was a hint of pain in Auburnfur's voice. "Breezekit hasn't had... an episode... for a moon now. He'll be fine."

"Fine? In the cold? Away from home?" Beechclaw was growing angry. "The kits deserve better than this. They deserve safety. We could give it to them, but instead Slatestar is insisting on taking it away!"

"Even if Slatestar had given Alder up, WindClan would still be attacking," said Auburnfur patiently. "What would you have ThunderClan do?"

Beechclaw snorted. "First, I would give up that good-for-nothing milk-gut loner, and his friends, too. They should never have come here. Then I would have us attack WindClan and take them by surprise before they attack us at our camp. The kits would never be in danger."

"Beechclaw..." Auburnfur's voice was pained. "Please. Slatestar knows what he's doing."

"A million things could go wrong with his plan," said Beechclaw. "We should take matters into our own paws and fight WindClan on our terms."

"That's traitorous talk," she told him. "I know you don't agree. I understand – but we have to trust in Slatestar."

There was the sound of Beechclaw's tail whipping hard against the ground. "I don't want to put you or the kits in harm's way! That's all!"

"I know," mewed Auburnfur quietly. "I know, Beechclaw. I love you."

"I love you too," the tom mewed,voice softening.

Kitetail turned away, skin heating up beneath his fur. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop on such an intimate moment. And yet... he had been right. If there was one cat in ThunderClan who would go against Slatestar's orders, it was Beechclaw. He wanted to tell Slatestar what the lean warrior had said, but Beechclaw was one of ThunderClan's top warriors, and Kitetail was merely an adoptee from ShadowClan. He didn't think Beechclaw would turn on the Clan – he was far too loyal for that – but it was something that he needed to keep an eye on, just in case.

He was just back at his den when Beechclaw walked out of the nursery. The tabby made a beeline straight for Thickfur. Kitetail's heart lurched. If there was one cat who hated Alder more than Beechclaw, it was Thickfur. The medicine cat watched as the two warriors padded out of camp together, and, heart pounding in his chest, went to follow them.

.

They didn't go far. It was evident that Beechclaw had asked Thickfur out on a hunting mission, but there was a second purpose behind it: to talk about Slatestar's decision. Kitetail made sure to stay downwind of them, but close enough to still hear their voices. He stayed crouched behind a towering oak, its bark peeling and the cracks lined with snow.

"I don't see what there is to talk about," said Thickfur gruffly. "It's Slatestar's call."

"Think about it," urged Beechclaw. "We could handle WindClan on our own. It would be much easier if the rogues were no longer a threat."

"I'm not going against Slatestar," repeated Thickfur. Despite his hard exterior, he was stubbornly loyal. Kitetail felt new affection toward the grumpy grey tabby. Dawnpaw had always portrayed him as a cruel tom, but perhaps he wasn't that bad.

"Come on, Thickfur," mewed Beechclaw, "you hate Alder. Dawnpaw isn't safe with him around, especially since he brought the rogues. It won't be easy to evacuate her."

"Leave Dawnpaw out of this," said Thickfur. "Aren't we supposed to be hunting?"

Beechclaw pressed on. "Alder likes to hunt alone. Let's find him when he's out and bring him to the rogues. It would be easy. Slatestar wouldn't lose his precious honour."

"And when he finds out it was us?" challenged Thickfur. "What then?"

"Who says he has to?" asked Beechclaw. "We can make it look like Alder turned himself in. Just say he talked to you about it before he left."

"Beechclaw..." Thickfur's voice sounded like it was being pushed out through his teeth.

"So that's it then?" sneered Beechclaw. "You value Alder's life more than Dawnpaw's?"

"No!" Thickfur was angry now. "That's not it at all."

"That's exactly it," insisted Beechclaw. "Do it my way, Thickfur. We'll protect ThunderClan, protect Dawnpaw and the kits, and Slatestar can keep his pride."

There was a long silence and Kitetail found himself holding his breath. Beechclaw had a point, he knew that, but he could never condone going against his leader's orders. But would Slatestar believe him if he told the grey tom about this conversation? It was Kitetail's word against the leader's son and another warrior. If Thickfur agreed to this... he would need more proof.

He found himself silently begging Thickfur to disagree and to rat Beechclaw out himself. _Do what's right, _he urged Thickfur. _Please_.

"I'll think about it," said Thickfur, at long last. "Now, let's hunt. That's what we came out here for, right?"

Kitetail let out a huge sigh, relief filling his body. He needed to get back to camp.

**XX XX XX XX**

**A/N:** Quicker update than last time, am I right? To everyone who reviewed last chapter: wow. You're still reading. You are fantastic. Anyway, I'm sorry this one goes on a bit long. I got inspired near the end. It's neat to see Thickfur from another character's point of view. Kitetail doesn't entirely trust him. As for Beechclaw... he's not a bad cat, but I'll let you draw your own conclusions. Anyway, I'm hoping to update again near Christmas time as a present for all of you faithful readers!

This chapter is basically the whole reaction to Slatestar's decision and the rogues, plus the threat of WindClan being thrown in there. Next chapter is back to Dawnpaw and Sootclaw!

Anyways, my exams went well, two of my wisdom teeth are out, and I'm currently in the car on the way home from Toronto. There's a huge winter storm (end of the world?) and I'll be stuck in here for a couple more hours. That's plenty of writing time so hopefully I can get the next chapter underway. I want to do something cute/special with the characters for Christmas, though I don't know how... a drawing of Thickfur in a Santa hat? I should probably start using that blog I made for this series at some point, so some artwork might be good for that.

Last point: I don't know what to call this trilogy! I don't want to call it the _Pawn of the Stars_ trilogy or whatever. It needs a better name that encapsulates what it's about. If you have any ideas, let me know in your review!

**monkeyCsaw:** You're too kind! I'm glad you like Grainstar – he's actually going to tie with Kitetail's story at some point, that should be interesting. I mean, what? No spoilers here.

**justsmile77: **Thanks! Yeah, Grainstar's reappearance definitely has something to do with the darkness and what's going on down in the Dark Forest.

**zestia240: **Thanks for the review! Are you sure Grainstar's been "alive"? ;)

**Honeycloud of RiverClan: **Haha yeah, Kitetail's growing up, for sure. Thanks for the wonderful review!

**Blackish:** Thanks for the critique, as always! I know the scene was a bit rushed. I spent some time in this chapter explaining Slatestar's motives, so hopefully it makes it clearer why his decision was so quick. As for the rogues... they're confident, and as nasty as they can be, they still don't want an unnecessary fight. They would have preferred just taking Alder over fighting a Clan.

**Coqui's Song: **Nope, you're not allowed to die. This update is a little quicker in order to cater to your sensitive health. (: Thanks for reviewing, you were missed!

**Frostfeather: **Nope, no time machine wizardry (though I'll keep that in mind for future plot twists... kidding. Maybe.) Yeah, Alder's spoiled. Not a bad cat but – you called it, spoiled. Thanks for the great review, I love hearing from you!

**Fawndapple1359: ** Wow :S That's a really wonderful compliment! I'm happy to hear that! As for Dawnpaw, she's coming next chapter.

Thanks for reading and please review!

PV :)


	17. Chapter Fifteen

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN  
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Ever since the meeting and her vision of Thickfur mutilated beyond belief, Shredtail and Worm had stopped keeping the truth from Dawnpaw. The truth about the nightmares had been hard to grasp at first – she had hardly wanted to believe it – but after experiencing it firsthand, the she-cat had seen no other choice. The two toms were very blunt in the matter. Their explanation contained no reassurances, no softening of the cold, hard facts. Despite the chills it sent through her bones, Dawnpaw was grateful to them for that. They were treating her like an adult, not like a scared little kit. There was some measure of respect there.

Visions happened when night fell. Nightmares, and not just ordinary ones. The Dark Forest took your deepest fears, your _worst_ fears, and twisted them into strange, blood-soaked apparitions that haunted the trees and the fog. The spectre of Thickfur had just been the beginning. It happened when you were sleeping too, though to a lesser extent. The darkness infiltrated your dreams, but your sleeping mind was not as susceptible to it as when you were awake.

"So you two deal with it every night, while I sleep?" Dawnpaw had asked. Shredtail had nodded, and she had pressed on. "So what do you see?" But Shredtail hadn't answered.

Now, despite all of Shredtail's protestations, she wanted to experience the night for herself. They set up a camp in a tightly-knit grove of holly trees. There was no fungus here, nothing to give off the glowing light. Twisted ferns made rudimentary dens. There was only one way into the grove, and so Shredtail figured it was safe enough. Above them, the twisting branches of the holly trees combined to make a tangled thicket. Above it, there was only the grey sky. Dawnpaw stared up at it, wondering what was up there, beyond where the trees merged with the sky.

It was greyer here than it had been in their previous campsites. The ground was grey, the trees were grey, and the lingering shrubs were cracked and withered. The ferns were the colour of ash and Dawnpaw was scared they would simply dissolve if she touched them.

"There's room to sleep, if you change your mind," said Shredtail, as they prepared for night to fall. Dusk was upon them, and for a brief moment, the clearing was awash in indigo light, a rare hint of colour in this drab world. "You should change your mind," he added pointedly.

Dawnpaw knew he didn't like this. "I know it's scary," she told him softly, "but you and Worm do it every night. I want to see what it's like."

"It's unpleasant," he said curtly.

"I can handle it," she mewed.

Shredtail shook his head. "You don't fully understand the dangers. It's not just seeing these things – it's that you might follow one into the woods, or worse, that it might drive you insane. You might never be the same again."

Dawnpaw frowned. "You and Worm will be there the whole time, making sure I don't run off. Tie me down, if you'd like."

"There's some loose roots over there," said Shredtail, though his voice was bitter and laden was sarcasm. "I just might. Anyway, you're missing my point – you might never be the same again."

"I know," she mewed simply. "I'm so scared of this place, Shredtail. How can I overcome that fear if I don't do this? I need to see what this place is. I need to face my fear. If it changes me, it will be for the better. You and Worm – you've adapted to this place. I need to adapt to it as well."

He paused, taken aback by her answer. Dawnpaw felt a slight rush of victory. He probably hadn't expected those words to come from her. She must have looked so pathetic and young; she was tiny, her ginger pelt unruly and covered in dirt. She was frail, not a fighter. But those words made her feel strong when she said them.

"That's... admirable," Shredtail mewed grudgingly. "But Dawnpaw, if you go through with this – I can't guarantee your safety."

"If I can't withstand this, am I really the cat you should pin your hopes on?" she said weakly. Dawnpaw had meant it as a joke. It hadn't come out very humorous at all. She was shaking, the ginger apprentice realized. She was scared.

"You don't have to do this," the scarred tabby repeated. She looked him over, really looked, and saw the faintest hint of concern in his tense features. While Dawnpaw was undoubtedly scared of him, there was something about him she admired: his strength and his confidence. She wished she could be half as confident. This was the first step on that journey.

"Yes," she mewed. "I do."

As the words left her muzzle, the last hint of light was extinguished from the sky. The world around her was plunged in darkness. Only the fog was visible as it wreathed around the trees. It seemed to be pulling out the life of the objects around her. Perhaps that was why everything was so grey here. The colour had long been sucked out.

Her vision of Thickfur returned. He stepped out of the bushes in front of her, blood dripping down his face. Dawnpaw swallowed but held herself still. She had seen him before. "You're not real," she mewed softly. "You're not real."

She turned around to see Shredtail and Worm behind her. Her relief was short-lived as the two toms turned to face her. Worm was covered in bleeding wounds. She could see his bones through them, dirty and cracked. His stomach was ripped open and she found herself puking as his guts slipped out of the wound and landed on the forest floor.

He was pretty in comparison with Shredtail.

Maggots crawled from Shredtail's eyes and muzzle, squirming, desperate to get out. The tom collapsed from the weight, and when the seams of his body burst open, there was nothing in there but more maggots. His skin turned to ash in front of her.

Heart thudding, she turned away from them – and felt her heart stop when Thickfur's sightless eyes were right in front of her own. Dawnpaw couldn't help herself – she screamed. Thickfur's face stayed there, taunting her, until all of the flesh fell from his bones and then it was just his skull there, silently laughing at her, until it too, fell into nothingness.

_Stay calm_, she told herself, _none of this is real_. Branchpaw came next. He looked normal as he approached her, but there was hatred in his eyes. "You killed me."

"You asked me too," said Dawnpaw desperately. The events of that day replayed in her mind just as they did every day. She could remember it clearly, so clearly. "It was the only way to save you?"

"I asked you to kill me?" Branchpaw's voice was incredulous and full of disdain. "No, Branchclaw did. He tricked you. Now I'm trapped down here with him. You could have saved me. You should have used your powers to chase him out of my head, but you didn't. It's all your fault."

Dawnpaw shook her head. "That's not true. You're not real. I saw the real Branchpaw go to StarClan."

He was in her face now, and when he spoke, his voice dripped with disgust. "Are you sure?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them again, he was gone.

Did Shredtail and Worm really go through this every night? Her respect for the two toms was expanding immensely. And, she realized, it wasn't just those two. It was every cat in the Dark Forest. Could they sleep? Or was she only able to because she was still alive?

Dawnpaw was going to make sure she ended up in StarClan when she died.

She took a deep breath. The visions had ceased. It was only a slight moment of refuge, but it was enough.

Then it happened. Her worst nightmare.

Sootclaw.

He was bigger here than she remembered, strong and broad-shouldered, towering over her. His amber eyes were narrowed and there was a hatred in them that was familiar to her. He stalked toward her, arrogant, disdainful, a look of contempt etched on his face. Something finally clicked in Dawnpaw's mind: he reminded her of Falconswoop.

This was Sootclaw if she had never entered his life; arrogant, filled with the conviction that everything belonged to him, that respect and leadership were his birthright.

This was her worst nightmare? She had expected to see Sootclaw bleeding or broken or, worse, dead. But this... this did scare her. She remembered all those times when, as an apprentice, Sootclaw had rejected her, had shut her away, had rejected the ideas of love and compassion in favour of power and his father's respect. Her worst nightmare was Sootclaw turning away from her, rejecting her, not needing her anymore.

Dawnpaw admitted defeat. In that moment, she believed it. Sootclaw would turn away from her. He would seek power. She couldn't save him. He didn't want her, didn't need her anymore. She was useless. Thrown aside.

Then something in her mind snapped back: _no_. She reached into her mind and conjured all of the happy images of Sootclaw she had tucked away. She thought of his apologies, his love, his confidence in her. She remembered when he sat by her after Branchpaw's death. She remembered the strength of their minds pushing together, the colours. She remembered his pride at becoming a warrior. She remembered his love of Kitetail. She remembered his kindness, his loyalty, his strength, and most of all, she remembered his joy when she had fought through the nothingness to contact him.

Sootclaw would never throw her aside. Everything was so simple when they were together. She belonged to him and he belonged to her. Like Shredtail said, they had pieces of each other. She called on that piece now, and she conjured her own image of Sootclaw to sit beside her.

Warmth spread through her body. Her toes tingled. She stared at the apparition in front of her, stared it down until it faded into the darkness.

Sootclaw sat with her for the rest of the night. Then the sun rose, and she fainted.

.

"Well," said Shredtail amiably, "you're not dead."

Dawnpaw sat up. Her head was pounding, her tongue was fuzzy, and her throat was dry. For a brief moment, she wished she was. Disoriented, she looked up at Shredtail. "What's going on? What time is it?"

"Just past sunhigh," he mewed. "You finally woke. How was your night?"

Dawnpaw narrowed her eyes at him, not sure if he was joking. After the night's terrors, she found she was in no mood for Shredtail's jibes. She rose unsteadily to her paws, taking in a deep breath of the cool air. It tasted fetid in her mouth and she gagged at the sudden unpleasant taste. Taking a look around, the ginger she-cat realized they were in the same grove as the night before. It was bright, as much as possible for the Dark Forest, and there was a warmth to the air that made her skin prickle under her fur. It was an unpleasant warmth, the kind that turned growth to rot.

"I'm fine," she told him, attempting to walk. Her first step was unsteady and she nearly plunged forward. Shredtail made no move to help her as she regained her balance. "Should we get moving?"

Shredtail's green eyes searched hers. "Are you sure you're alright?" Though his words were concerned, his voice was taut and clipped. He was tense, she realized. For a moment, Dawnpaw wondered if she had worried him. It seemed silly, to think she could worry a cat like him. But as the brown warrior had told her, she was his chance for redemption. If anything happened to her, he was lost.

"I said I'm fine," she told him snappily. Then something in her chest relaxed and she felt the angry tension, so unlike her, dissolve from her limbs. "It – it wasn't pleasant. I saw things I didn't expect to see. But I made it through."

He nodded curtly. "Are you ready to keep going?"

"Yeah..." she said quietly. She frowned. Something was missing. "Where's Worm?"

"Outside the grove," said Shredtail, with a jerk of his head. "He's keeping guard."

Dawnpaw nodded and swallowed, her throat still awfully dry. Her head was spinning as she padded across the clearing. Shredtail followed her silently. The ginger apprentice could feel his green eyes burning into the back of her head. Something about his gaze made her shiver. A thought struck her. "Shredtail," she said quietly.

He grunted in acknowledgement. The hulking tabby wasn't in the mood to talk.

"You deal with that every night," she mewed hesitantly. It was a statement, not a question. "How?"

The tom shrugged. "I just do," he said, voice cold.

.

The three cats continued on their journey. The warmth, a welcome change from yesterday's cold spell, remained throughout the day. Yet as nice as it was to not feel the chill in her bones, Dawnpaw couldn't help but be disgusted by the rancid odours floating toward her through the air. The warmth was stirring up the mud and the dirt. Rotting logs and trees continued their decomposition. The fog was even thicker now, and the air around them was humid and moist. Droplets of water clung to Dawnpaw's pelt.

The walk was tough after last night's events, but Dawnpaw was tougher too. Her paw pads had hardened and her muscles had strengthened, no longer complaining with every step. They stopped at a small pool to drink, and she took the opportunity to look at herself in the water. She was filthy; that was the most obvious difference. Dirt coated her pelt and her face. She was as skinny as ever, but there was a hardness to her now, muscles visible underneath her thin ginger fur. Scratches from the bramble covered her body, but they wouldn't scar.

If only Thickfur could see her now. Dawnpaw almost laughed out loud at the thought. Compared to the Dark Forest and everything that was happening, Thickfur didn't seem nearly as scary. Dimly, she realized she was glad for his unorthodox training methods. He had only been trying to prepare her, and now, covered in mud and scratches and lost far from the Clans, she could understand why.

The three of them continued in silence. They made an unlikely band of cats, and yet, Dawnpaw was growing to trust them. Shredtail still frightened her, but he had not harmed her yet, and she doubted he would. Worm made her uneasy, but he had also kept her safe. She wouldn't call them friends, not by any stretch of the imagination, but there was a grudging respect for her travelling companions burgeoning within her.

An odd thought struck her. "Shredtail?"

He grunted again. "What is it?"

"I was wondering..." Dawnpaw took a deep breath. "In all those stories about the Dark Forest and the battle, you know, with Tigerstar and Firestar... they called down Clan cats and trained them in their sleep. But if it was during the night, how could they have trained them? Wouldn't – wouldn't there have been the fog and the nightmares and such?"

Shredtail let out a long, slow, barking laugh. Dawnpaw felt her blood run cold and she immediately remembered what she had learned at the meeting, that Shredtail was one of Thistleclaw's most trusted cats. Had he... had he been involved in that? She frowned, wondering just how long Shredtail had been around.

Finally, the broad-shouldered tom answered. "It wasn't like this before the battle," he mewed. "The Dark Forest was still bad, but the night terrors... they didn't happen. They started when we lost."

She frowned. "Do you know why?"

Shredtail shook his head. "No," he said shortly.

Dawnpaw digested this new information. This would give the Dark Forest yet another reason to hate StarClan. They were already being punished enough, but after their recent loss, the punishment had become even worse. They deserved it, she knew. They had instigated the battle against Firestar and the Clans. Still, after having witnessed the visions... it was a fate worse than death. Yes, the cats in the Dark Forest were evil, but... they had paid for their sins. Now StarClan was forcing them to continue paying for it, every night and every day.

Feeling brave, she ventured another question. "Shredtail, did you – did you help with the training? Were you there, during that battle?"

The tom, walking a few steps ahead of her, tensed. "Yes," he said at last. "I helped train them. I fought in the battle against the Clans. It was Lionblaze who struck me down."

She was surprised by the amount of information she had offered. "So you've been here a long time," Dawnpaw mewed. She wasn't sure what to think about that. Shredtail had fought ThunderClan. Years ago, he would have hurt her, or a cat like her, without a second thought. Now he was protecting her.

"Yes," he said, voice tight.

"Oh," was all she could manage.

"Dawnpaw..." His voice was strained. "I'm not going to try and justify myself to you. I'm not sorry for what I did. When you're down here – there's not many options. It was a way out and I took it; at least, I tried to."

"What they're... what Thistleclaw's planning... it's a way out too. How come you aren't working with him?" asked Dawnpaw.

"I told you," mewed Shredtail sharply, "I'm done with that. I don't want to be down here anymore. I want redemption, freedom. The surest way to get that is to place you in StarClan's paws."

"You're in this for yourself." Dawnpaw couldn't believe she was asking him this. She expected him to turn at any moment and attack her for daring to question him.

"Of course," he mewed. His voice was rough, bitter, but there was no anger directed at her. "But that doesn't mean I'm not looking out for you. Think of it as a mutual benefit. I get what I want, and you get out of here in one piece."

"Right," said Dawnpaw, falling silent. She wasn't sure what answer she was hoping for, but that wasn't it. She supposed expecting Shredtail to admit to any sort of feeling, or fondness, or altruistic motive was, well, completely unrealistic. Compared to her, he had been around for an eternity. He wasn't about to change in the period of a few weeks.

She looked over at Worm. He had been silent for their whole conversation, walking at the back of the party. He was alert, ears pricked and eyes wide open, looking out for the slightest front. When he caught her gaze, his narrow face contorted into a sneer. "What?"

Dawnpaw frowned. "What was – what was life like, for you?" she asked, cursing her stutter.

"In my time, StarClan didn't interfere with the living's business," said Worm bitterly. "They gave the leaders their lives and the medicine cats their signs, and that was it." He spat on the ground. "It was better that way."

**XX XX XX XX**

**A/N: **See, quick update, just like I promised! Merry Christmas to everyone, or happy holidays, whichever you prefer! I can't believe it's here already. I feel completely unprepared. Anyway, Sootclaw was supposed to make an appearance, but I'll save his part for later, sorry. Also, Dawnpaw's changed. I didn't really notice it until I started writing this chapter. Her experiences in the Dark Forest have definitely toughened her up. That said, this is the last we'll see of Dawnpaw for about... hmm... eight chapters, which is a long time. We have plenty of POVs to fill up the space, though. We'll visit everyone again – Sootclaw, Thickfur, Kitetail, Grainstar, Chantelle, and Fogpaw, not necessarily in that order.

The next chapter is Kitetail... again. What was I thinking when I wrote the outline? I've been expanding his role recently though. I didn't see it coming, but I think he's going to start becoming far more important than I had originally intended. This chapter was fairly short, unfortunately, but I liked it. I didn't except Dawnpaw's desire to stay up during the night. That just sort of happened and it was a spur of the moment scene. I'm really glad about how it turned out!

Not many reviews to reply to this chapter. That's what I get for updating on a Friday night, haha.

**Honeycloud of RiverClan:** He was named Thickkit because he was larger than the others, I would assume :) He' a big guy. Thanks for the review!

**Fawndapple1359:** Thanks!

**Coqui's Song:** I'm sure WindClan would figure it out, but by that time, the rogues would be fighting them, and it's not like they can just walk away. It'll be dark, full of scents, and confusing overall - at least, that's what Slatestar's banking on. I'm sorry the Thickfur part was so short! I will definitely make up for it later ;) I love him too much to not keep going back to him, and he didn't get nearly enough angst time in that chapter. Thanks for the review and happy holidays to you too!

**Anarchy's Cries:** Good suggestion! As for Alder and the others - Chantelle is probably off with Elmheart, and Alder really isn't too inclined to show his face at the moment. We'll see him again next chapter though. I didn't mean to disappoint you with skipping that scene, though, my apologies. What other scenes have I skipped over, haha? Thanks for the great reviews, by the way. You just got caught up and now I'm releasing another chapter - more work for you, I'm afraid. But yeah. You're awesome. Thanks so much!

As to the suggestions of trilogy names: the stories are definitely chess-related. I'm not sure if I've dropped the title of the third one yet, but it is chess related as well, and if I were to ever write a story about Falconswoop's life (though unlikely) it would be called _King of the Dark_. I'll probably have to look up chess terms then. My story names for this series have a pretty obvious format: (chess-related position of the main character) of the (clan prefix, sometimes pluralized.) Believe it or not, KotS is supposed to be about Sootclaw. His role in the story doesn't really become apparent until later though.

I'm once again struck by the crazy urge to write a new story when this one is taking so long...please talk me out of it! PS, if any of my descriptions in the next few chapters seem lengthy or odd, bear with me. I want to work on my description.

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	18. Chapter Sixteen

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

It was time to evacuate the camp.

Kitetail was in his den, arranging packets of herbs at the last minute. Most waited by the entrance to his den, wrapped in leaves and ready to go. Galepaw and Mousepaw had volunteered to help transport them, and some of the other warriors had also volunteered their services. He had prepared a mix of remedies: some were for wounds inflicted by battle, and others for illnesses. He had also prepared for whitecough, knowing the cold would be harsh without their dens to protect them.

Auburnfur and Beechclaw had approached him earlier, asking him to do an assessment of Breezekit. The small black tom was fine, though he had sneezed rather violently when he had bowled into some herbs that Kitetail had absentmindedly left out. Kitetail had no idea what caused the seizures, but he was hoping nothing bad would happen while they were evacuating camp. "He's healthy enough," he had told the anxious parents. "Apart from the fits, he's big, strong, and healthy. He's growing well."

He had marvelled that they had trusted him around their kit, especially after what Branchpaw had done. Breezekit still carried a small scar on him from that day, though the young tom didn't know where he had got it. "I think I probably fought off an evil rogue when I was bigger," he had announced proudly to Kitetail, when the tabby had first examined the wound. "I was a leader. Breezestar of ThunderClan. It was a long time ago so it's okay if you don't remember."

Kitetail could still remember Beechclaw's face when Breezekit had told him that. The lean warrior had been amused, and there had been joy and affection written across his face. It was odd to see Beechclaw like that. For all his toughness, he was as sensitive as every other cat. He loved his kits more than anything in the world. Being a father... it must be an amazing feeling. Kitetail felt a slight sadness in his chest. He would never know that joy. And yet... all of ThunderClan were his kits, really. He looked out for them, protected them. It was a trade-off that he accepted willingly.

Now, though, Breezekit was huddling underneath his mother's legs as they prepared to leave. Mothkit was beside him, her fur fluffed up against the cold. Their eyes were wide and Kitetail could tell that they were scared. Auburnfur leaned down to reassure her kits. They clung to her like leaves caught in a bramble bush.

It wasn't a bad day to evacuate, though it was cold. The skies were relatively clear, save for a few wispy clouds, and only a few lazy flakes of snow fell. The snow was deep and soft, somewhat treacherous in its lay, but as long as you were careful when you stepped, you would be fine.

It was nearing sunhigh. Kitetail knew they would have to get on their way soon. He took a look around the clearing for Slatestar, but the powerful grey tom was nowhere to be seen. The medicine cat did notice Chantelle and Elmheart as they padded into camp with prey in their mouths, returning from a hunting trip. Their pelts were nearly brushing as they walked, and there was a sense of closeness between them. Kitetail frowned, an unsure feeling in his chest, before turning away. Getting involved with the loners didn't seem like a good idea to him, but it wasn't his place to give Elmheart advice.

He had often wondered about Dawnpaw's relationship with the golden-brown tabby. Danwpaw had told him that the two had been friends in their youth, but they hardly ever spoke now. It was odd. Kitetail hadn't pressed – at the time, he had just been glad to have a friend in ThunderClan. Now, though, he felt more at ease here with every passing day. It was nice to live in a place where Falconswoop held no sway. It was a second chance. And yet he missed Birchcloud, Sootclaw, and Flowerpelt almost desperately.

"Kitetail." The voice was familiar. Kitetail looked up to see Alder padding toward him. They hadn't spoken since their argument, and Kitetail was surprised to see that Alder had a subdued look on his face. It wasn't apologetic or remorseful, but there was no more cold arrogance to him either.

"What do you want?" Kitetail wasn't about to pretend that they were friends.

Alder walked into the den – without Kitetail's permission, which irked the tom – and sat down across from him. Kitetail cast a nervous glance toward Dawnpaw, who was lying in her bed in the corner. Thickfur's words came back to him: _don't let those loners near her._

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry," said Alder. "I really am."

"I'm sure," said Kitetail, with a derisive snort. Sarcasm and bitterness didn't usually come easy to him, but right now, he had no respect for Alder. Sure, he might be the heir to a band of street cats, but he didn't belong in the Clans. He had no sense of sacrifice.

Alder cleared his throat. "I really appreciate you all doing this for me – moving, I mean."

"When will you understand?" said Kitetail, through gritted teeth. He shifted so he was directly between Dawnpaw and the loner king. "We're not doing this for _you_. We're doing it for _us_."

Alder frowned. "I don't understand," he mewed, casually licking his chest fur. It was too casual for Kitetail's liking. Something about this cat just bothered him. "Isn't it harsh, out here in the forest? You'd think it would be every cat for himself, but you band together in Clans, and you sacrifice for the old and the weak. You put them first, instead of your survival."

"The warrior code is what keeps us strong," said Kitetail instantly, thinking of Falconswoop. "It gives us purpose and order. Without it, we would just be rogues, fighting for every scrap of food. I wouldn't expect you to understand, but... being in a Clan means everyone looks out for each other. You aren't alone. It's the most fulfilling life possible. Are you saying your band didn't have a structure like that?"

"My band had a hierarchy," said Alder. "There's a leader, his second-in-command, and his lieutenants. Beyond that, everyone is equal, though their worth is determined by their skill in fighting. Cats who have mates and kits take on the responsibility of feeding them. It is not shared by the band. I hunt, but only for myself. The role of leader is to keep his cats organized, like your Clan, but it is not for the purpose of providing for each other. We keep them as a fighting force, so that we may maintain territory, and thus enjoy better food and a better quality of life for everyone."

Kitetail digested that information. "That's... that seems oddly cruel. I don't know."

"It's effective," said Alder.

Kitetail couldn't handle it anymore. "It's effective," he mocked.

"What?" asked Alder, frowning.

"It's what you sound like," mewed Kitetail. He narrowed his eyes. "You talk so officially, all the time. It's like you're never honest. Slatestar might not seem to care, but I do. If you actually want to talk to me, then do so honestly. If not, then don't bother in the first place. If you actually came here to apologize, do it sincerely."

Alder seemed dumbfounded. Once again, he wasn't used to Kitetail's anger. He dug his claws in the dirt and looked down. "I... I am sorry, Kitetail," he said, at last. "I never meant to put your Clan in danger, and I talk like that because, well, I just don't know any other way."

An inkling of understanding reached the medicine cat. "You were a prince, where you came from," he stated, and saw Alder nod. "You weren't treated like an ordinary cat, were you? It's no wonder, then."

"What do you mean?" asked Alder.

"You lived above your... 'subjects'," said Kitetail softly. "You didn't walk among them. I shouldn't be expecting anything more from you."

Anger flashed in Alder's eyes. "If you're implying I don't care about them or think that I'm better than them, you're wrong. Beck and Chantelle are my best friends and I would do anything to protect them, just like you would do anything to protect your Clan. Don't insult me by assuming otherwise. Just because I'm from the same place as Baron doesn't mean I'm like him."

Kitetail thought of Falconswoop and ShadowClan. That was true, he realized. Alder was distant, detached from the reality of their situation, but there was nothing about him that was mean.

"Look," said Alder, clearing his throat, "I came to ask if you wanted help."

"That – that would be great," Kitetail conceded. "I'm just wrapping these herbs up right now, if you wanted to work on that."

Alder nodded and padded over. "So explain to me – how does one become a medicine cat?"

The ThunderClan tom let out an awkward laugh. "My way was more unorthodox than most. I already told you about that. Usually, though, some kits will show a special interest in medicine. They'll follow around the current medicine cat, ask about herbs and whatnot. The medicine cat will then talk to that kit's parents, and to the Clan leader, about taking them on as an apprentice."

"Were you a medicine cat apprentice when you were in ShadowClan?" asked Alder. There conversation was almost pleasant, and despite his misgivings, Kitetail was starting to warm up to the loner prince.

He shook his head. "No, I was just a regular apprentice. I wanted to study under Birchcloud – that was our medicine cat – but Falconswoop, my father, he would never have approved. I was scared of him, so... It was only after he died that I worked up the courage to ask if I could come here, as ThunderClan had an...opening, I guess you could call it."

"We don't have medicine cats, where I come from," mewed Alder. "There are some healers, but they're usually reserved for royalty. If I was hurt, there was someone to look after me, but they didn't do the same for the unimportant cats."

Unimportant cats. That was one way of making a distinction. But then again, life in the city was probably very different from life in the forest, Kitetail supposed. Alder's band had adopted the structure that had best helped it survive. It wasn't up to him to make judgements about it.

"I'm sure our ways seem very strange to each other," he said, half-joking.

"Yeah," mewed Alder. He paused. "Kitetail, what happens if Slatestar's plan doesn't work?"

"It will," said Kitetail instinctively. He had absolute faith in his leader.

"But if it doesn't," Alder persisted.

"Then there's a battle," mewed Kitetail. "The warriors will fight. But hopefully we won't have to deal with both of them, the rogues and WindClan, at once."

"The warriors?" Interest sparked in Alder's eyes. "So you don't fight?"

"I can, I have some training," said Kitetail, "I just can't fight _well_. It was never something I was good at."

Alder was staring at him with a strange look in his eyes. Kitetail frowned, about to ask what was going through the brown tom's mind, when they were disrupted by the crunching of pawsteps right outside the den.

It was Thickfur. He froze in place upon sighting Alder, his amber eyes glowing with fury. The tom's gaze flickered to Dawnpaw for a brief moment before resting on the loner. "What's _he_ doing in here?"

Kitetail felt his knees go weak, though he didn't buckle. He had never been good around cats like Thickfur, cats with strong wills and physical presence. They reminded him too much of Falconswoop. "Alder's helping me finish up the packets."

"I told you not to let him in here," said Thickfur. His voice had gone icy cold. There was a sharp edge to it that sent shivers down Kitetail's spine. The warrior was mad. "I told you, no matter what, not to let any of them in here, not with Dawnpaw like – like she is."

"What do you think I'm going to do?" Alder's voice was flat.

"Look, Alder, I don't care what Slatestar says. I don't like you and I don't trust you." The fur on the back of Thickfur's neck was bristling. "Now, I don't care what you with your time, I won't bother you, as long as you aren't anywhere near Dawnpaw. Do I make myself clear?"

Alder raised his head to meet the warrior's gaze. Tension sparked between them, sparks of anger rolling off their bodies. Kitetail felt panic grip him, and he tried to shrink into himself. An old adage sprang, unbidden, into his mind: _if looks could kill_.

"I was just leaving, anyway," said Alder, at last. He turned and, without glancing back, strolled out of the den. The tension in the air seemed to dissipate as he left, though it was evident Thickfur was still on edge.

The grey tabby turned back to Kitetail. "I told you not to let him in here."

_I don't take orders from you_. Kitetail swallowed back his anger. Thickfur's worry was understandable. The tom clearly cared a great deal for his apprentice. But he still had the feeling that Thickfur was hiding something, and it set him on edge. "He wasn't hurting anyone, Thickfur. He came to here to apologize, to help. Anyway, I had my eye on him the whole time. It wasn't like he could have done anything." He took a deep breath. "Why are you here?"

Thickfur's gaze flickered back to Dawnpaw, and for a moment, his eyes softened. "I came to tell you that we're ready to go. Grasscloud and I are going to move Dawnpaw."

Kitetail turned to look at her. The she-cat seemed to be getting worse every day. Her body was skinny, almost withered, her ribs painfully obvious underneath her dull fur. She took shallow, ragged gasps, and he watched her chest rise and fall in agonizing rhythm.

"Alright," he mewed. "Let's get underway, then."

.

They made reasonably good time, arriving at their evacuation site while the sun was still in the sky. Streaks of orange were beginning to appear and the temperature was falling rapidly. The battle would be beginning soon. Hopefully, WindClan and the rogues would run into each other, and battle in their confusion. WindClan would know, of course, that they were not fighting ThunderClan – but if the rogues were attacking them, they would have no choice but to defend themselves.

Or so Kitetail hoped.

He had chosen a fallen pine tree as space for his new den. Part of the trunk lay over two stones, and a thick clump of ferns at the back acted as another wall. The crevice was full of snow, but he dug it out before placing his medicine packets along the back well. There was room for Dawnpaw, too, and Galepaw had helpfully supplied the hollow with a bed of moss.

Slatestar appeared at the entrance. "All settled in, Kitetail?"

The brown tabby nodded. "This looks good, Slatestar. Thanks."

The other dens weren't much different. The warriors had chosen theirs underneath another portion of the fallen tree. They had dug a nest in the snow, and planned to huddle together in order to create warmth. The apprentices would sleep there with them. The nursery had been moved to the leeward side of an old spruce tree. The roots emerged from the ground, and a den had been dug out underneath then. Someone had laid branches overtop to supplement the roof.

Beechclaw was helping Auburnfur settle in to the nursery. Cherrytail was beside them, her tail wrapped around Limekit. The young tom was looking around in excitement. He had never been this far from camp before.

Kitetail scented the air. ThunderClan camp lay to the southeast, and ShadowClan directly to their south. Scents wafted up toward them, and he could only hope that the wind would not change and blow their scent back into ThunderClan territory. Chantelle and Elmheart had gone back to disguise their trail, and the medicine cat hoped that would be enough to hide them.

Beechclaw gave Auburnfur an affectionate lick on the ear and padded away and into the woods, presumably for a hunt. Kitetail's paws itched to go after him, but he knew it would be a bad idea. He had to trust that Beechclaw, despite his frustration at Slatestar's plan, wouldn't cross his leader's orders.

He looked around. Alder was nowhere to be found. If Beechclaw found him wandering – no, Kitetail wouldn't think about that. Besides, Thickfur was still around. The grey tabby was chatting idly with Nettleclaw.

Kitetail thought about what Alder had said, the look the brown tom had given him. Perhaps it would be worthwhile, learning to fight. He thought about asking Nettleclaw to teach him, but the deputy had his paws full with other matters. It wouldn't do to give him yet another obligation, especially during such a treacherous leafbare.

He frowned. Thickfur was mewing his goodbyes. The grey tom looked as though he was about to leave camp. Kitetail hesitated a moment before beginning to pad after him. He had to be sure that they wouldn't try anything.

"Kitetail!" He stopped when he heard his name, swearing under his breath. Turning around, the tom saw Mousepaw and Galepaw heading eagerly toward him.

"Yes?" he asked, itching to go after Thickfur. The grey tabby was about to disappear into the forest.

"Is there anything else you want us to do?" asked Galepaw. His eyes shone brightly; he was eager to be given a task. Beside him, Mousepaw nodded.

"Uh – I'm going out for a quick hunt, so maybe check on Dawnpaw occasionally, see if there's change?" mewed Kitetail. He knew there wouldn't be change. He just wanted to get rid of them.

"Sure thing," mewed Galepaw, and the two finally padded away.

Kitetail let out the breath he had been holding and turned around in time to catch a glimpse of Thickfur's tail disappearing into the snowy brush. He cursed StarClan once again and took off after the tom, making sure he kept a safe distance behind him.

Thickfur led him back into ThunderClan territory, which Kitetail had been expecting. But instead of heading further in for a rendezvous with Beechclaw, the tom turned and began to head toward the clearing at the ShadowClan border. Kitetail frowned as he padded after him, wondering what Thickfur could possibly want with the medicine cat's former Clan.

As they approached the border, Kitetail stopped. He could no longer see Thickfur's form up ahead. He scented the air – Thickfur's scent was still strong. Where had the tom gone?

The crunching of snow behind him and the feeling of breath on his neck answered that question for him. Kitetail spun around to see Thickfur standing there, eyes narrowed and fur bristling. The medicine cat got the sense that the ThunderClan warrior wasn't happy to see him.

"Why are you following me?" asked Thickfur through gritted teeth. Every word was tense, and Thickfur's voice reminded him of the sound of claws scraping against rock.

"I..." Kitetail didn't exactly have an answer prepared. He should have thought of this ahead of time. "I just... I know you, you don't like Alder, and after earlier today, I thought..."

Thickfur's eyes searched his. Eventually he let out a contemptuous snort. "You thought I came out here for Alder?" There was a bitter disbelief in his voice. "You're right. I don't like Alder. I don't trust him. But I would never betray my leader by _doing_ something about it."

"You had that conversation with Beechclaw," said Kitetail, realizing a moment too late that he was giving himself away.

Thickfur flinched. "You were following me then, too? You really don't trust me." His voice was flat, angry, _powerful_. Kitetail shrunk away from him. He knew that voice. His father had used that voice. It always meant he was about to be hurt.

"Thickfur, I just – I don't know what I was thinking." His voice, filled with tremors, was small and weak.

The grey tabby just shook his head. "No," he mewed. His voice was no longer angry, but carried that flat, disgusted tone. "Dark Forest take you, Kitetail. I would _never_ betray my Clan. I can't believe you would even suggest it. You sicken me."

"I..." Everything was crashing down around Kitetail now. He hadn't known what he had hoped to find – Thickfur and Beechclaw conspiring, maybe? But now he realized just how wrong he had been. He should have trusted them. Despite their misgivings, despite their anger, they were still loyal warriors of ThunderClan.

StarClan, he should just have trusted them.

"Are you going to tell Slatestar that I...?" Kitetail trailed off, voice shaky.

Thickfur snorted bitterly. "I should. But I won't. I don't know why I expected you to trust me anyway – after all, you are a ShadowClan cat."

Those words hurt more than anything else Thickfur could have thrown at it. Kitetail had no response. Pain and hurt and disappointment all flooded through him. Had he really just been deluding himself these past few moons? He had thought he was becoming part of ThunderClan. Maybe he had thought wrong.

Mustering up all his courage, he spat back the words he hoped would hurt Thickfur. "You know, Dawnpaw talked about you all the time. She _hated_ you." That was a lie, but Thickfur didn't have to know that. "We were friends. See how that works? I might not be ThunderClan-born like you, but at least _I_ have cats who care about me. Who do you have, Thickfur?"

There was a moment of pure silence where all Kitetail could feel was the blood pounding in his ears. There was an expression on Thickfur's face that Kitetail had never seen before – pain, perhaps? More than that. There was a brief hint of absolute agony that shook the brown tabby to his core. He had wounded Thickfur.

Oh, he had wounded Thickfur. Guilt flooded through him. He wished he could take the words back, but it was too late.

When Thickfur spoke, his words were steel. "Go back to camp, Kitetail. Just go back."

The brown tabby took one step back, then another, and once he was out of Thickfur's view, he turned tail and ran back, as fast as he could. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it would burst. Adrenaline coursed through him and fuelled his weary legs as they propelled him back to the evacuation site. _StarClan_, went his thoughts, _Oh StarClan._ What had he done?

It was only when he was back in camp and settled, watching as the sun fell beneath the horizon, that he realized he had never asked what Thickfur was doing by the ShadowClan border in the first place.

**XX XX XX XX**

**A/N:** I love this chapter so much. It's practically my child. In all seriousness, though, it's one of my favourites so far, due to the intense emotion in it. My heart's still beating pretty fast, haha. I really enjoyed writing it, and I hope you enjoy reading it! We get to see Kitetail and Alder and Thickfur, all interacting together. Alder doesn't seem like such a bad guy anymore, and Thickfur... well, he's starting to seem like a villain, at least to Kitetail. Man, I love Thickfur and Kitetail so much, really. I never expected a conflict to develop between them, but I suppose it was only a matter of time. Grainstar was supposed to make an appearance, but that didn't really work out. We'll see him soon, I promise!

I recognize that this story is going a lot slower than _Pawn_, and I'm very glad you're all bearing with me. There's a lot of story strands to weave together by the end – Dawnpaw, Fogpaw, Russet, Sootclaw, and now Kitetail, too. I figured as long as Kitetail is our main view into ThunderClan life, we might as well make his narrative interesting!

The next chapter is from Russet's point of view, and (you guessed it), it's the battle! After that, we finally make our way back to Fogpaw and Chantelle, whose perspectives we've been lacking in the past few chapters! I'm definitely looking forward to writing the next couple of chapters.

Right, so: review replies!

**AnarchySpider: **Oh, sorry! I figured there would be no real point to that scene – it would be simply telling the audience what they already knew. Anyway, I might be co-writing a story soon, that should be it. I will be coming up with lots of plots though, so I might be planning out others for the future. As for a Falconswoop story – if I have time, it's definitely on the list. As for StarClan winning, are you sure about that? ;)

**Honeycloud of RiverClan:** Thanks for the review! Yeah, I take a few liberties with the warriors canon. I'm sure it's not too unrealistic to assume they can come up with the concept of years.

**monkeyCsaw: **You better have more time to review now, or I'll be very cross (just kidding!). Thanks for the compliments on Dawnpaw, they are very appreciated.

**Coqui's Song:** Have fun rereading! I have to do it every time I take a break from writing the story, so I know the feeling. Maybe I just shouldn't take breaks? Anyway, thanks for the review, and I hope you enjoyed the Thickfur development in this chapter!

**Senora Sapphire:** Wow, thanks! It's great to know people are still reading _Pawn of the Stars_ even after all this time; I'm glad you enjoyed it. As for all those pairings – a lot of people find Lilystream annoying; I wish I had more of a chance to develop her. We will see her again soon! It would be interesting if Thickfur liked her, wouldn't it? She's definitely too young now, but Dawnpaw's gettin' older. As for Elmheart, we'll see where he ends up...

**Blackish: **The Thickfur POV... I was going to include the conversation with Sootclaw, but the reader already knows what it's about, so I thought it would be unnecessary. I figured it would be more dramatic if he burst in on Kitetail. As for Slatestar – his inability to concisely explain his motivations isn't his fault as it is mine; I knew what I was trying to say but had trouble expressing it. As for Kitetail, he's been in ThunderClan awhile. He knows these cats. The reader has seen Beechclaw being very aggressive to outsiders (when Alder first arrives, and then again with the rogues) and Kitetail knows he dislikes them. Thickfur, as well, has made his dislike of them very clear. These are the two cats Kitetail would suspect the most, reasonably. Anyway, Beechclaw isn't really a traitor. He's loyal to his Clan first, which is why he's considering disobeying Slatestar's orders, as he disagrees with them.

Another quick reminder: you guys are the best!

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	19. Chapter Seventeen

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN  
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Russet's heart was hammering so hard he wouldn't have been surprised if it leapt from his chest. He stood where Baron had placed him, in the front row of their battalion. Anya stood beside him, a dark grin plastered on her face. Again, she reminded him of Lilypaw, and for a brief moment, the dark red tom was very glad they were not fighting RiverClan. He quickly removed the thought from his mind – he would fight RiverClan if he was ordered. His former life didn't matter anymore. There was only this one now, under Baron's command.

Flynn was on his other side, so confident, still beaming cheerfully. Beside him stood Carrionpaw, scowling. The dark brown tom was licking his chest, but though his actions were casual, his whole body was tense. There were about twenty of them in total, far more than were needed to overpower ThunderClan. That was one weakness of the Clans, one of many: they weren't very large. Russet curled his lips, exposing his fangs. The Clans were pitiful. He had realized this a long time ago. They didn't understand the price that freedom and safety cost. He had understood that. Falconswoop had understood that.

In the distance, the sun was falling into the earth. The sky was streaked with hues of orange and purple. The air was chilly, but Russet was used to the cold now. He had been just a kit during his first leafbare, born with the first snowfall. It was a part of him. He belonged to the cold, to the snow. If he closed his eyes, he could see the many streams of RiverClan frozen over, glittering in the sunlight. It was one of his earliest memories, when his mother had taken him out of camp to explore. Later, as an apprentice, Toadstar had brought him to those same streams to learn to fish. Russet flinched at the thought of his former mentor. Pure hatred rolled through him, roiling and streaming, warming him against the wind.

Baron stood at the head of their little militia. It was time for his speech. The burly tom looked calm and composed. His reddish-brown fur was flecked with snow, and his cold, pale eyes were expressionless. He looked down at them all from his position on a frost-covered stump. The tom commanded attention so easily. His every movement was filled with power. "So," he said, at last, voice heavy. "Some of you are probably wondering _why_ we came out here. Some of you know for certain. I'm sure everyone has at least an idea. I'm going to clear that up for you right now. One word: _Alder_."

There was some muted whispering among the gathered cats, but the silence soon returned. Russet had a feeling that most cats had guessed their purpose already. It had been a little odd to begin with. Baron had whisked a group of them away from the city, leaving the rest of the band in the paws of his second-in-command. Russet felt a thrill run through him. If he was the one to kill Alder, if he proved himself in Baron's eyes – he could soon occupy that position. He straightened his shoulders and held his chin a little higher, trying to catch his leader's attention.

"Let me be perfectly clear: there is only one goal tonight. We find him and we kill him. Whoever lays that killing blow shall be rewarded greatly," said Baron. His icy gaze swept the assembled cats. Russet shivered as it passed over him.

"What about the cats we're fighting, them who live in the forest?" asked a cat somewhere behind Russet. "Do we kill 'em too?"

Baron's eyes flashed. He offered a slight shrug. "If you must. I don't want to kill the whole Clan, mind you. There are three more of them, and invoking their collective anger would be a bad idea. But we must secure Alder at any cost. So if anyone gets in your way – yes, feel free to kill them."

"Baron," called another cat. He sounded nervous. "I've heard things – stories – about the cats who live here, how they can call down forest spirits to help them in battle. Is that true?"

A contemptuous look appeared on Baron's face. "Who said that? Shrew?" His voice was taut.

There was a slight pause to Shrew's voice when he answered. "Yes sir."

"Come up here, Shrew," said Baron. His voice was perfectly calm, his eyes giving nothing away. Tension sparked in the air. Russet held his breath. Baron was unhappy right now. Something very bad was about to happen.

Hesitantly, Shrew left his rank and picked his way through the assembled rogues until he was standing in front of Baron. Russet got a good look at the tom. Shrew was nothing more than a thin scrap of dusty brown fur. He bowed, waiting for Baron to speak.

"Are you really scared of these so-called forest spirits, Shrew?" drawled Baron. Condescension flashed across his face.

"Not scared, sir – beginning your pardon," mewed Shrew. He was starting to shake. "It's just – I thought we should be prepared for anything. I weren't trained to... to fight no forest spirits."

Baron leapt down from the stump and circled Shrew, who was concentrating very hard on the ground in front of him. Russet could have laughed if he wasn't filled with apprehension about the events to come. Shrew was a weakling, of course, who deserved whatever he got. Forest spirits. The very idea of it was ridiculous. But Baron was scary, and Russet was very, very glad he wasn't in the thin tom's paws.

"Forest spirits aren't real," said Baron gently. He narrowed his eyes. "But I'll give you something to be scared about." With that, he reared back and slashed Shrew across the side of his cheek. Blood dripped onto the white snow underneath. Shrew let out a pitiful cry, like a kitten's mewl. Russet snorted in contempt. Baron heard the noise and caught his eye, and for a brief moment, Russet thought he caught the hint of a smile.

Then Baron turned back to Shrew, who was staring at the blood on the snow with an expression of disbelief across his face. "Be scared of me," he mewed, "and what I'll do to you – all of you – if you fail me tonight. Like I said, forest spirits aren't real – but I most certainly am. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," murmured the assembled cats. Baron's gaze swept over them once again and Russet ducked his head. Had he merely imagined Baron's smile earlier, or did the reddish-brown tom really approve of him? Excitement, sharp as electricity, ran through Russet. This was his chance to make a difference, to be someone. Toadstar hadn't seen his potential, but Baron did.

"Let's go," said Baron, turning away and signalling with his tail. Shrew was left to scrabble after him, dripping blood in the snow. Russet watched him with the utmost contempt. If Shrew had been a Clan cat, he would never have been able to become a warrior. For all the Clan's faults, they held their cats to a high standard.

The battalion began to move, walking in rows. Russet leaned over to Flynn. "Why did Baron bring Shrew along in the first place?" he asked quietly. "He doesn't exactly seem useful."

"Heh," Flynn chuckled. "As pitiful as Shrew is, he's a good tracker. He's from the woods, not from the city, and that makes him valuable out here. At least it did, before he found Alder. Now he's useless."

Russet looked at the cream tom in disbelief. "He's from the woods and he actually believes in forest spirits?"

Flynn shrugged. "The Clans are something most of us haven't encountered before. Cats like Shrew, cats with little minds, they'll believe anything to explain what they don't understand." His grin was still present on his face. The lieutenant looked as though they were heading off to find some she-cats as opposed to heading to a battle.

In fact, before they had left on this mission, Russet had rarely seen Flynn unaccompanied. The handsome cream tom was usually followed around by at least two or three she-cats, all vying for attention. He supposed having the kits of a lieutenant was a status symbol of some sort. Russet himself had been offered she-cats, but he had turned them all down. He told himself it was because he had bigger things to worry about, that it didn't have anything at all to do with Lilypaw, and sometimes he even managed to believe that.

Lilypaw. What would she think of him now?

It didn't matter. Russet chased the thought from his head. He had to have a clear mind. He would kill Alder tonight. Baron would pick him as a new second-in-command, and nothing else would matter after that.

.

They poured into the quarry fast as a river and silent as the night. Above them, the sun had set, and darkness reigned. Russet was near the front as he ran down the slope into ThunderClan camp, his heart pounding in his ears. The wind whipped at him and snowflakes covered his pelt, but the dark red tom felt no cold. He was alive with the heat of battle, ready to tear fur and flesh. His mouth was singing for the taste of blood. All of his anger at the Clans, all of his fury that had built up over the past few moons, was in his paws, ready to inflict as much damage as possible. He hoped ThunderClan knew who he was. He hoped they told RiverClan. He hoped Toadstar knew what his apprentice had become.

He hoped Toadstar felt guilty.

They arrived in the centre of camp, grouped together. All was quiet. Russet opened his mouth to scent. There was ThunderClan scent all around him, but something was off. There was something darker that burned his tastebuds. He shut his mouth quickly and looked around. There was no sign of life. His skin prickled.

Something was wrong.

Then the enemy was upon them. They came yowling from every direction, leaping and scratching and biting. There was one on his back before Russet even knew what was happening. He rolled over, trapping his assailant underneath him. The other cat yowled in pain, but to Russet's surprise, pushed him off with incredible strength. Russet, landing hard on the ground, took a moment to pick himself back up. His attacker had already moved on.

What was going on?

Cats were everywhere, fighting. Paws whipped through the air as fast as whirlwinds. The clearing was alive with noise. Doing a quick scan, Russet saw that they outnumbered ThunderClan at least two to one. Baron was over in the corner, throwing cats off of him with ease. Russet watched him for a moment before turning around. He recognized the rogues, the cats on his side, but among their enemies, there was no sign of Slatestar or Nettleclaw, ThunderClan cats he was sure to recognize.

Again, there came an awful feeling of _wrongness_.

Someone came at him. Russet dropped to the ground and let the cat sail over him. He got and whipped around, finding himself face-to-face with a large ginger tabby. Russet froze for a brief moment. This wasn't any ThunderClan cat. This was Thornfur, deputy of WindClan. What was going on?

Thornfur came at him with surprising speed. Russet tried to dodge the attack, but Thornfur's claw caught his shoulder and dug into his pelt. Russet bellowed in anger and spun around, kicking up with his hind legs. They caught Thornfur straight in the chest. The deputy exhaled loudly, stumbling backward. Russet twisted around and leapt at him, claws extended. He managed to land hits on Thornfur's face before the tom ducked and drove his head into Russet's ribs. Russet gasped as he was knocked to to the ground, the air stolen violently from his lungs.

As he struggled to regain his breath, he watched Thornfur above him. The deputy was strong, but not this strong. There was something else going on, and he suspected it had to do with the awful, acrid stench burning through the air around them. Just as Thornfur prepared to cast a final blow, another shape knocked into him and pushed him off-balance. It was Carrionpaw. He fought Thornfur with ease, while Russet watched, dumbfounded at the lieutenant's strength. In all of his sparring matches, he had never fought Carrionpaw or Flynn. Now it was easy to see why.

He scrambled away quickly, looking for an easier target. None of the rogues seemed to realize they weren't fighting ThunderClan. How would they? They didn't know this cats. Russet had to find Baron and get him to retreat. They needed a new plan.

A cat leapt in his way. He was smaller and skinnier than Thornfur, but the same darkness burned in his eyes. Russet frowned as he recognized him. "Rootpaw?" he asked. This wasn't the same Rootpaw that he remembered. He had met the young tom at a Gathering. He had been shy and polite. Not like this. Not at all.

The dark tabby spat. "Rootfur, now," he said. There was a deepness infused with his voice, something that was not his own. Russet just stared at him, hesitation grabbing his heart and stalling his legs. He didn't want to fight Rootfur. The tom had never done anything to him. He didn't deserve to be hurt. He had always been so innocent. And now, it wouldn't even be fair – Rootfur clearly wasn't himself. Russet didn't know what was going on, but it was clear that Rootfur would never have acted like this out of his own free will.

Russet cursed his weakness under his breath. He couldn't fight Rootfur. Not now, not like this. He backed away, keeping his eyes on the tabby to make sure that there were no surprises. Rootfur watched him go, his eyes blank. Russet knew he could have taken him. He knew it in every inch of his soul. But...he didn't. _I just saved your life_.

Hopefully Baron hadn't seen his moment of hesitation.

He disappeared back into the fray. It was clear that Alder wasn't here. They needed to leave. Russet caught sight of Baron, fighting against a beautiful white she-cat that Russet recognized as Frostpool. Before he could go to Baron's aid, there was a pressure on his back, pain in his shoulder, and he was knocked to the ground.

"Don't try anything, kittypet," hissed a familiar voice in his ears. "I'm going to enjoy killing you."

Russet grunted and pushed himself up, managing to dislodge the weight. The she-cat above him stumbled to the side, managing to keep her balance. He looked her over. Ashpoppy. Another WindClan warrior. "Why are you here?" he asked.

"I don't answer to the likes of you," she snarled. "You might not be our intended target, but I'll take pleasure in your death anyway."

Russet stepped to the side as she lunged at him. What was wrong with these cats? Ashpoppy caught herself before she passed him and swung around with claws outstretched. He ducked under the first, but winced in pain as the second sliced along his neck. He felt blood seep out and soak into his fur. Ignoring the ache, he retaliated, slashing at her with his own claws. She ducked under them, a smirk on her face. Enraged, Russet leapt at her, bowling them both over.

She struggled, but he managed to keep the upper paw, pinning her down. Blood dripped from his neck onto her silvery fur, making dark crimson stains. Slowly, casually, he placed his claws above her neck. He could slice it right now; end it.

Suddenly, he was no longer there. He was back in the ShadowClan camp, perched over Hailstripe, seeing the deputy's scared eyes underneath him. Hailstripe had refused to beg for his death, which had infuriated Russet to no end. He had been so close to killing him when Falconswoop had decided to end the matter himself.

Now it was Hailstripe underneath him instead of Ashpoppy. Russet took a shaky breath. "Beg for your life."

Mustering all her strength, she spat in his face. "No." The violence of it took him by surprise, and she managed to use that to her advantage, flipping them over. Russet hardly knew what was going on. He did the only thing he could. He reached forward and dug his fangs deep into her throat. Blood spurted from the wounds and gushed into his mouth. The taste of it overwhelmed him. The tom didn't hesitate. He tightened his jaw and pulled. Skin and fur followed his movement. Hot blood exploded from the wound, covering him in its spray. He shut his eyes as the steaming droplets landed on his eyelids.

When he opened his eyes, Ashpoppy was lying on the ground in a pool of her own blood, her throat completely torn out. Russet could only stare down at her. _I did that_, he thought. _It was me_.

"Good job." He looked up to see Baron silently watching him. Russet frowned. Why was Baron just standing there. Why wasn't he fighting?

Baron must have seen his confusion. "Look around," he said gently.

Russet did as he was told. The camp was clear now, except for the rogues. WindClan was gone. A few bodies lay littered on the ground, though thankfully there weren't many dead. WindClan mist have fled when they saw that they were losing. Russet let out a sigh of relief and padded forward to examine the dead. Ashpoppy, of course. Shrew was dead too, his body shredded. Beside him lay a WindClan apprentice, eyes closed peacefully. Russet felt nausea threaten to overwhelm him. Mudpaw had been too young for this battle. There was another rogue, a tawny she-cat by the name of Ciara, and a final WindClan cat. Mintpool. Thornfur's mate.

Russet fought the revulsion rising through him. The taste of blood was still strong in his mouth. Baron padded to stand beside him. "Was that your first kill?

"I knew her," said Russet quietly. That made all the difference. For all he had dreamed of tearing out Sootclaw's throat, the act of it was much different than he had expected. "I don't understand... this wasn't ThunderClan."

"No," said Baron, with a sigh. "There's no sign of Alder. They must have evacuated when they knew we were coming. Any idea why the other cats were here?"

"They were WindClan," Russet mewed, clarifying for his leader. "I...I have no idea. What now?"

"We head back to our camp," said Baron, jerking his head. "Rest up. Heal our wounds. Let ThunderClan believe that they're safe. We'll strike again when it's time."

Russet nodded, still feeling sick. "Will we...will we give them another warning?"

"What do you think?" asked Baron in contempt. Russet, realizing he had made a mistake by saying that, allowed Baron to finish. "No," said the reddish-brown tom, "they already had their warning. Next time, there will be no mercy."

"Right," said Russet.

Baron noticed his hesitation. "You did well," he mewed. It was odd to hear a compliment coming from him. "Keep it up. You could become a second-in-command yet."

Russet watched as his leader signalled for the others to follow him. He hesitated for a brief moment before trotting after him. The others followed, falling back into line. As they marched out of camp and through the forest, the moon lighting their path, Russet realized they had left the bodies where they lay.

He closed his eyes. He needed to forget about that. If he wanted to succeed, he could have no mercy. What had happened with Rootfur – that would never happen again. Baron hadn't shown any remorse over Shrew's death. Russet had to be the same. It was caring for others that was the problem. Caring was weak.

And yet, part of him still wanted to be sick. The battle had been nothing like he had expected. The scent of darkness and death was still heavy on his tongue, the metallic taste of blood strong in his mouth. Each pawstep was a battle in itself. Ashpoppy's death weighed down on him. It didn't matter that it had been in self-defense. Killing was supposed to be easy, and it had been, at the time, but right now, Russet didn't know what to think.

Flynn sidled up to them. "Well?" he asked. "Enjoy your first taste of blood?"

"Very," lied Russet. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him. As he heard Flynn laughed, he wondered, for the first time since this had all begun, if he really was doing the right thing.

He had to be. It would get easier, he was sure.

**XX XX XX XX**

**A/N: **Happy New Year! Here's the first update of 2013! I started this trilogy in 2011... we'll soon be coming up on the 2-year anniversary. Wow.

I haven't written Russet in awhile, so the writing quality is eh and a more than a little stiff, but I feel like this is passable. He's getting his first real taste of blood and death, and realizing there's no pride in it the way there is when he wins sparring matches. The poor guy is still trying to convince himself that this is what he wants, that he wants to be part of Baron's army. He thinks it'll just get easier. It might, or it might not. We'll just have to wait and see!

The battle happened. It didn't really last too long – neither of the sides wanted to kill the other, but it hurt them enough that they'll be licking their wounds for awhile, giving ThunderClan some time to come up with a decent plan – hopefully.

As I said earlier, the next chapter is going to go back to Fogpaw and Chantelle. This chapter is a bit shorter than the recent ones I've been posting, especially last chapter, but the next one should be fairly substantial, since we're getting two POVs. After that, it's back to Sootclaw, and then Thickfur.

Now, even though ThunderClan has this brief respite, don't go thinking it's going to be easy for them. There's something very bad about to happen to them in about three chapters. Hope that keeps you worried!

**Honeycloud of RiverClan:** Is it really that improbable that the cats could come up with a name for the passing of all four seasons as a way to mark time? They count their age in moons; therefore they could reasonably count the number of moons it takes to go through all the seasons, aka twelve moons or a year. I'm not saying they define a year as exactly 365.24 days, and I know the lunar cycle isn't exact, but they would understand it as a broad concept. Yeah, the Erins might not use it. I don't really care. If you don't like it, don't use it in your own stories.

**FlyingSteps:** Aww, thanks for the review! I'm glad Thickfur is growing on everyone.

**AnarchySpider:** First, your drawing of Kitetail was absolutely wonderful. Second, here's your battle update! I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for the wonderful review; I really appreciate it.

**Coqui's Song:** I remember when you gave me a dissertation on how much you loved Sootclaw and hated Thickfur. Seems your affections are fickle, haha. Honestly though, Thickfur is just... I am absolutely in love with him. I wish I could promise you his life will be full of happiness, but as you know, I am a writer.

**Justsmile77:** Oh hey, good to hear from you again! Yeah, Kitetail made things kinda complicated. Oh well. As for Beck, he's keeping to himself. He's not a very sociable cat, though I'm assuming he doesn't stray too far from Alder, being his bodyguard and all.

**Senora Sapphire: **Unfortunately, Dawnpaw's not coming back for a bit. She's definitely making progress though, and you'll soon see the reason I need to keep her down there. Thanks for the lovely review, by the way, it's always appreciated!

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	20. Chapter Eighteen

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN  
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Fogpaw woke to complete darkness. Something had startled her awake, but around her, there was only silence. Slowly, she became aware that a clump of poppy seeds had been scattered by her muzzle. _Stripedpaw_. She ate them gratefully, though she still harboured some anger for the scrawny apprentice. Hopefully, they would send her back into the realm of sleep. Her dreams had improved recently, the darkness receding from her mind. It had been days since her last torture session, and Fogpaw wondered if Willowstar had given up. It was that, or they were trying a new torture tactic: isolation.

Using her forepaws to pull herself across the floor, she crawled over to the opening and stared up. Stars winked above her, a desperate reminder of the real world, filling her with a beautiful, crushing hope. One day, she would be back up there. One day, she would be free. Fogpaw had made that promise in her mind a million times, and each time it became more vehement. She was getting angrier by the day, and as her strength returned, angry meant she was trying to break free. But the slope was still too steep for her to manage without help.

_Stripedpaw_. His name resounded once more in her mind. If only he had helped her. If only he wasn't a coward. Anger burned within her, but as much as she wanted to hate the tom, she found that she just couldn't. He was her only ally in this dingy, painful, messed-up world, even if he was an awful one.

Fogpaw wondered what had woken her. She kept still, holding her breath, attempting to hear any noises from above. Everything was silent, as if the whole world was holding its breath as well, and she found herself anxious, waiting for the big crash that would shatter the stillness. Something was wrong, she could feel that. Her skin prickled uncomfortably beneath her fur. Maybe it was the unease that had woken her, a subconscious feeling that something important was about to happen.

Just as her eyelids began to flutter shut and the poppy seeds overwhelm her, the noise began. It was faint at first, as if from far away, but as she listened, it drew closer. It took Fogpaw a moment to realize that she was hearing footsteps, many of them, hard and heavy against the snow as cats raced back into the WindClan camp. They said nothing, but as more and more arrived, she was aware of their breathing and the beating of their hearts.

"Well?" That was Stripedpaw's voice, hushed.

Willowstar's voice, so familiar to her that it sent shivers down her spine, answered the young tom. "Get Stormtail and start patching up the injured."

Everything made sense to Fogpaw then. It must have been the night of the battle. WindClan was returning, though they were injured. And yet, from the strength she had seen them display, she wasn't sure they had lost. If WindClan was in bad shape, what was ThunderClan like?

"Did we lose any?" An unfamiliar voice. Stormtail?

"Yes." Willowstar's response was curt.

"How?" She could hear the confusion in the tom's voice. "We went over this extensively. They wouldn't have been prepared. We should have won easily."

"It wasn't ThunderClan we fought, Stormtail," said Willowstar, voice thick with anger. Down in her hole, Fogpaw frowned. What was Willowstar talking about, not ThunderClan? What had happened out there? Judging by the sounds from above, WindClan was just as confused as she was.

"What happened?" asked Stormtail.

"Come into my den," said Willowstar. "We'll talk there. Is the prisoner still in her den?"

"I'll check," said Stripedpaw, as the others padded away. Fogpaw could hear their footsteps retreating, far above her. Another pair was drawing closer to her den. The steps were lighter, and she knew it had to be Stripedpaw.

She was right.

The tom threw the vine over the edge and slid down. Fogpaw scrambled back, watching him with suspicion as he approached. Though she said nothing, she made sure her hostility was evident in her posture. Her neck fur was raised, her ears flat against her skull, her eyes narrowed. Her claws, extended, dug into the frosty ground.

"Fogpaw..." he began.

Now that her head was no longer pounding, Fogpaw was able to take a better look at Stripedpaw. The tom was skinny, his ribs painfully obvious underneath his short pelt. His head was narrow, with pointed features and wide golden eyes, and his ears were tall and bat-like. There was an obvious skittishness to him, a wide-eyed look that reminded her of prey the moment before it was caught. When he spoke, his chest hitched, and there seemed to be a heady sense of desperation underlying his voice. She hadn't noticed it before – the haze of pain during there first meeting had dulled him to her – but he was clearly frightened, and she couldn't blame him.

Something about her observations sent a feeling of sympathy through her chest. "Stripedpaw," she replied, and she began to relax. "What's going on?"

He lowered his voice. "That was the attack I told you about."

"I know," Fogpaw mewed, cutting to the chase. The harshness of her words was unlike her, but then again, she wasn't really sure who she was anymore. The torture had changed her and she was still trying to figure it out. "I heard everything. Why wasn't ThunderClan there? Were they warned?"

His golden eyes filled with confusion. "You heard all that?"

She nodded. "So?"

"So..." Stripedpaw trailed off. He took a step backward, bumping against the wall, and for a moment, Fogpaw wondered if he were frightened of her. What was so threatening about being able to hear conversations?

"Stripedpaw, what's wrong?" she asked. She wasn't sure what was going on now, but she knew she couldn't lose her only ally against the darkness.

"Nothing," he said, a little too quickly. "I – I should go, I only came down to check on you."

"Why was Willowstar worried that I had escaped?" asked Fogpaw. It took her a moment. "She thought I might have warned ThunderClan? What happened?"

"I don't know," Stripedpaw mewed. His chest was trembling and his eyes were wide with apprehension. "Look, we'll talk later, okay? I need...I need to go patch the warriors up."

"Stripedpaw!" Fogpaw exclaimed, lunging forward. He scurried away from her and up the vine before she could say anything else. Then the vine disappeared from over the edge of her prison and she was left alone once more.

_StarClan take him_, she thought, her stomach a roiling mess of fear and anger and unease. Something had spooked him. Something unexpected.

**x x x**

It was nearing daybreak when Chantelle finally felt Elmheart move beside her. The golden tom stirred wearily, a yawn escaping his slightly-parted muzzle. The she-cat twisted her neck to look at him, glad to finally have some company on the chilly morning. She hadn't slept all night, and Elmheart hadn't fared much better. At some point during the wee hours of the morning, he had finally slipped into slumber. She met his green eyes as he blinked lazily, still too drowsy with sleep to fully be aware of his surroundings.

"Good morning," she purred quietly. They were lying at the outskirts of their makeshift den, the other warriors collapsed around them. The den was emptier than it had been the night before. In the stillness before dawn, Chantelle had watched several of the warriors leave with Slatestar in order to go check on the ThunderClan camp.

He gave her a half-smile. "Morning," mumbled Elmheart. He was still a little disoriented, she could tell. "How long did I sleep?"

"Not very long," she told him, snuggling against him. He wrapped his tail over her flank and gave her cheek an affectionate lick. Chantelle felt the purr in her chest begin to build. There was something so wonderfully warm and open about Elmheart. The way he took care of her...it felt good to be wanted, to be held.

"The camp?" he asked.

"Slatestar took a patrol to check on it," she mewed. "But so far, there's been no emergency."

"Good," Elmheart said. He gave her cheek another lick before rising to his feet. The dawn light accentuated his golden-brown fur, alighting the tabby in a blaze of burnished copper. His green eyes sparkled as they gazed down at her and Chantelle felt a flutter in her heart. Then he turned away, surveying the camp. "Did you sleep?"

She shook her head. "I couldn't," Chantelle admitted.

Elmheart sighed. "It feels strange here."

The black she-cat nodded. It did. There was an odd silence to their evacuation site, stretching over the snow. It was too quiet here, too cold, too crisp. The air was punctuated with the sense of unease and the expectation of an attack. They weren't comfortable here. ThunderClan was wary. She certainly hadn't seen a wink of sleep all night. "If the plan worked and we head back, it'll be better."

Elmheart nodded, face grim. "Better for now, at least. We still have to figure out how to deal with the rogues, and with WindClan. We don't even know what they wanted."

"No..." Chantelle's voice trembled as she trailed off. It was bad enough that Alder had brought down Baron's wrath upon the Clans, but it was even worse now that she realized ThunderClan had struggles of its own, between the cold and the lack of prey and the threat of WindClan. They had taken this Clan's problems – Elmheart's problems – and effectively doubled them.

_Elmheart_. Even his name sounded perfect. It was so reassuring, so bold, so warm. It captured him perfectly, really. He was strong as an elm tree, as broad as its branches, a protector – her protector. And he was filled with caring, with love, with hope, with _heart_. If there was one things the Clans could do right, it was train their members. Elmheart, and the rest of the warriors here, were unlike any cats she had met back in the city. Their strength wasn't just physical: it was derived from their devotion to their Clan and to the warrior code. They fought for a purpose, not just for themselves.

It was remarkable.

As she stared up at the tom, her heart began to swell, her breath caught in her throat. Over the past few weeks, they had become very close. She counted herself the most fortunate cat in the whole forest, to have Elmheart by her side. He was everything Alder wasn't, and the more time she spent with him, the less she cared about Alder. The brown tabby had been her friend, but he had never provided for her the way Elmheart promised. That's all Chantelle had ever wanted – to be taken care of, to be provided for.

She got to her feet and followed him as he padded into the clearing. "Elmheart," she began, saying his name with hesitation. "I'm sorry this had to happen."

"Me too," said Elmheart, casting a glance toward her. "But don't be sorry. It's not your fault."

Something felt wrong in the air between them. They had spent so much time together recently that Chantelle had become sensitive to his movements, the way he sat and spoke and walked, to the emotions running underneath his golden pelt. She knew what normal Elmheart felt like, what his posture was, and there was a tenseness between them that was starting to prick at her. Guilt ran through her. Despite what her lover said, it was her fault. She was part of the problem, part of the reason his home was threatened.

"Are you okay?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.

His eyes met hers, strong and steady. "No," he mewed. "Not really. I'm worried."

"I know," she said, words tumbling out of her mouth without much thought. "But like you said, it'll be better for know, right? We have time to figure everything out."

Elmheart lashed his tail in frustration. "On a logical level, I know that. But I can't just convince myself. I'm just...I can't get rid of this feeling of unease, and it hurts, a little bit." He saw her expression and relaxed slightly, the tension and frustration evaporating from his body. "Sorry."

She stared at him in wonder. He was opening up to her, letting her see his feelings in a way that Alder never had. Chantelle had always had to guess at what her leader was thinking, whether he was sad or afraid or angry. Elmheart trusted her though, and it was a wondrous feeling. It was empowering. And when they snuck away from camp, into the woods, to mingle bodies and exchange heat, that was empowering as well.

A thought struck her, one that had been hiding in the shadows for awhile, that she hadn't let come to light for fear of its rejection. It surged through her throat, reaching her mouth, causing her whole body to tighten with anticipation. Her ears burned with exhilaration and guilt. If there was a time to ask, it would be now.

She cringed inside at the thought of the lie that would be told. But it wouldn't be a lie for long, not if she could help it. Elmheart would never have to know.

"Elmheart," she began, and the urgency in her voice must have transmitted, for he looked at her with wide, questioning eyes. But before she could finish her thought and utter the words she could never take back, they were interrupted by the crunching of snow, the sound of footsteps coming into the clearing.

Slatestar and the patrol were returning. ThunderClan's leader padded at the head of the group, his expression sombre. Thickfur followed to his right. Though his fur was lighter and his stripes more obvious, the warrior's body was a spitting image of his father's. On Slatestar's other side came Nettleclaw. The deputy towered above his leader, with narrower shoulders but longer limbs. Larchstripe followed them. Though she lacked the bulky muscles of the toms, she carried herself with poise, strength radiating from her limber form. Chantelle was surprised to see Beck at the very end of the procession. He hadn't been around much, though Chantelle hadn't exactly missed him. The golden tom fit right in with the group of warriors.

Around her, cats stirred from their nests. In the den behind her, Beechclaw and Larkflight got to their paws in unison. Kitetail padded out of the makeshift medicine cat's den, followed closely by Galepaw. In the end, it was Grasscloud who approached their leader. "How is it?" she asked, voice quiet.

Slatestar dipped his head. "It appears the plan worked," he said, at length. "There were...bodies there, both of the rogues, and of WindClan cats. There was – something not right, about WindClan. We moved them out of camp, but we still need to bury them. Apart from that, we did a tour of the borders. ThunderClan territory looks safe. We can return."

"They're going to bury the bodies?" asked Chantelle, turning to her mate. "Why? They aren't yours. Why not just leave them to rot?"

Elmheart shook his head. "That's not how ThunderClan works. It would be disrespectful."

The she-cat frowned. It seemed there was always something to learn about these cats. As she watched, Elmheart took a step forward. "I'll help bury them, Slatestar," he mewed in his deep voice.

From the back of the group, Beck spoke up. "I'll help as well."

Slatestar looked around. "Anyone else?" he asked.

Larkflight padded forward to stand beside Elmheart, bumping shoulders with her son. There was a sense of pride obvious in her as she stood beside the golden warrior. "Me, Slatestar."

"That's decided," he mewed, voice solemn. "As for everyone else, we will return to camp by dusk. I doubt the rogues or WindClan will be trying anything again soon now that they're weakened. Any other questions?"

When there was no sound from the assembled cats, the dark grey tabby turned toward his medicine cat. "Can I speak with you alone, Kitetail?" The brown tabby nodded and the two padded off together.

Chantelle turned to Elmheart, hoping to continue their conversation, but her tom was talking quietly to his mother. "We should go now," he mewed, jerking his head toward the ThunderClan camp. "Get Beck and bury these bodies before the others arrive."

Larkflight agreed and went to inform Beck of their plan. Chantelle watched her for a moment before turning back to Elmheart. To her surprise, the tom was already staring at her intently. "I know you wanted to say something," he mewed. "Is it alright if we talk about it later?"

"Of course," said Chantelle, though it wasn't really alright. The courage it had taken to bring it up was already starting to fade, settling back into her bones. She cursed internally and gave Elmheart's shoulder an affectionate lick. "I'll see you tonight, then."

He blinked in appreciation, pressed his nose to her cheek, and bounded away to join Larkflight and Beck.

.

Just as Slatestar had predicted, it was dusk by the time ThunderClan settled back into their home. Chantelle entered the clearing warily, feeling very much out-of-place. After all, it was partially her fault that this had happened. The warriors didn't give her dirty looks or avoid her the same way they did Alder – in fact, they didn't pay her much attention at all. Chantelle felt as though she were invisible, and longed for Elmheart's presence. Instead, she found herself padding along beside Mousepaw, probably the only cat who was more shy than she was.

It smelt of death and rot in the camp. The acridness hit Chantelle as soon as she reached the bottom of the quarry, the scent washing over her. There was something inherently _wrong_ about it. She could scent the rogues, that was easy enough, but WindClan's scent was tainted somehow. She could tell the others felt the same way. Around her, cats wrinkled their noses and convulsed with empty gags. Chantelle shuddered and imagined it had been even worse before the bodies had been moved.

As she made her way to her den to await Elmheart's return, she heard the sound of pawsteps bounding toward her. Turning, Chantelle saw Limekit making his way through the deep snow, curiosity alight in his eyes. His chest was puffed self-importantly and she couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.

"Is this what your Twolegplace smells like?" Limekit asked, using the Clan word for city. The tomkit's face was twisted in obvious disgust.

Chantelle shook her head. "No. You would probably think it smells bad, but not nearly this bad. This is WindClan."

"I've never smelled WindClan before," he announced, proud for some reason. "I thought it would be similar to ThunderClan, not gross like this. I thought only ShadowClan would be super gross."

She didn't know what to say so she just stood there and nodded awkwardly. Limekit took her silence for an invitation to ask more questions. "What's it like, where you're from? Are there trees?"

Chantelle shook her head. "Only a couple. Not like this. There are buildings, though."

He frowned. "What's a building?"

_Oh_. She found herself at a loss for words. How could she explain a building? It would be like asking Elmheart to explain the lake, or the forest. It was something you had to see for yourself. "I don't know how to describe it," she said. "It's really big, for one."

"More," he demanded, with the entitlement only a kit could possess.

But before she could answer, Cherrytail was there, ushering her kit away. "Come on, Limekit, let's leave Chantelle alone, she's probably had a long day." The queen's eyes met Chantelle's own and she saw the distrust that filled them. Though it was not unexpected or unwarranted, Chantelle still felt insulted. She took a step away.

"But mom, we were talking, _please_," begged Limekit as he was shepherded away. Cherrytail paid his complaints no attention.

Chantelle sighed and felt a heavy weight settle over her chest. Objectively, she knew she didn't fit in, that she wasn't accepted, that no one trusted her. But it hurt to see it in practice, her suspicions confirmed, and it wounded her more deeply than she had expected. She needed Elmheart right now. She didn't belong here, he had to see that.

She needed to talk to him. She needed to make him understand.

She needed that lie, and it hurt her more than anything, to lie to the one cat who trusted her and took care of her and maybe – here, her breath hitched – even loved her. They hadn't said the words, but...what else could these feelings be?

It might not even be a lie, though, she rationalized. She didn't know for sure, not now.

"Chantelle." She nearly jumped out of her skin. It was him. Curse it all, she hadn't been ready. But it was now or never, so she turned around.

"Elmheart," she mewed, immediately feeling better with his presence. He was so handsome, so visually striking, that it always took her breath away no matter how many times she looked at him. Chantelle thought back to that day in the forest, when he had told her he had suffered unrequited love as well, and wondered who could ever turn him down. "Hey."

"Hey," he said, pressing his muzzle to hers. "You wanted to talk?"

She nodded. "Can we go somewhere private?"

"Of course," he mewed.

They padded over to the nursery and slipped behind. It was the most private spot in all of camp. Though cats usually came here to make dirt, the snow had covered that, and lay unbroken over the ground. Chantelle took a deep breath. Elmheart gazed at her, worry in his eyes. "You alright?" he mewed, his turn to ask.

She shook her head. "I just – I feel responsible for what happened here. I know I shouldn't, that they came for Alder, but I was part of his band."

Elmheart exhaled slowly. "Chantelle, I already told you, it isn't your fault."

"No, listen," she said, voice strained. "You know that, and I know that, but the others, they don't care. They don't like me, Elmheart. They don't _trust_ me, and I can't blame them. What am I but some loner who just waltzed in here, bringing the fury of the city cats with her?"

"That was _Alder_," he said urgently, "not you."

"It doesn't matter," Chantelle said. "Truth is, Elmheart, I will never be at home here. I will always be an outsider. I don't have a place."

"Yes, you do," he said. "You have a place with me. I want you here."

His words warmed her heart, and as she gazed into his eyes, she saw that they were vulnerable and tender. Chantelle wanted to drown in them. Sadness and exhilaration both whipped through her, the contradiction stirring strange feelings in her heart. She hated hurting him, but loved that she could, that he cared for her to such an extent. The she-cat took a deep breath. "I know, Elmheart. I want to be with you, too. But not here. I..."

Elmheart was frowning now. His green eyes searched hers, waiting for an explanation. Chantelle felt her chest tremble. This was it. "I want to leave," she finished. "Go to the Tribe, maybe. Somewhere I won't be associated with Baron, where they won't automatically hate or distrust me. And...and I want you to come with me."

That was it. Shocked silence stretched between them. Elmheart's face was unreadable, his mirror-like eyes broken into a thousand pieces. His mouth was moving, his jaw working up and down, but no sound escaped him. There was only confusion, confusion and fear and desperation as he tried to make sense of her words, and she could see he hated what she had said, hated the only logical thing she could have meant. "I can't leave ThunderClan," was what he said at last. "Chantelle, I love you, but I can't leave."

Those three words, which should have filled her with joy, felt like ice in her heart. And yet they fed the adrenaline rushing through her, fed her nerves, fed what she was about to say next. Her eyes dropped to the ground. "I know, and I love you too. I hate making you choose, and I wouldn't ask you to, but..."

"But what?" he asked, in a whisper. His voice was so raw that she cringed.

"But..." Chantelle swallowed heavily and looked up. This was it. "I'm pregnant, Elmheart. You're going to be a father."

**XX XX XX**

**A/N: **Ah, longer chapter here! Hopefully this makes up for the time it took to update, almost two weeks! My second semester of university has started, and it's promising to be a lot more engaging (and tough) than the last one. I still have some free time, though, so expect semi-regular updates. I know the story has been going slowly recently, but I promise (cross my heart etc.) that it's going to pick up! There's action in pretty much every chapter, starting after the next one (which is wonderful in its own way). Next chapter is Sootclaw, and we finally see him interacting with Pigeonpaw once more. I've had it written for awhile, so except it up in a few days.

I like this chapter about a million times better than the last one, which, we can all admit, was kinda badly-written. It was choppy and forced. The writing here is much improved, in my humble opinion, and I hope you guys enjoy it. As for that ending...asdfghjkl. I'm pretty sure I died a little while writing it, not going to lie. Anyway, the Fogpaw bit was short, but she comes back in a couple of chapters!

To those of you who reviewed last chapter, you make my life. To those of you who didn't, your chance to reserve a spot on my list of top people is still there. I really appreciate any and all reviews – after all, how can the story improve if you didn't give me feedback? Don't be afraid to be constructive as well as stating what you did like. It stings a bit, to be sure, but it's worth it in the end.

**Coqui's Song:** I'm pretty sure you disliked Thickfur for awhile, haha. It was hard not to, though. Thanks for the review!

**Honeycloud of RiverClan:** Russet's exile takes place near the end of PotS! It has to do with him helping Falconswoop, if that refreshes your memory.

**AnarchySpider:** All of your illustrations are wonderful, omigosh. An insane cat? Is it bad if I don't know which of my characters are insane? Oops. Anyway, thanks for the great review, as always!

**justsmile77:** Yeah, I hope Russet figures it out too. Hope you like the Fogpaw point of view, sorry that it's so short! We'll have more of her later, I promise.

**Senora Sapphire:** Thanks!

**Blackish:** I won't even try to debate with you this time, haha. Last chapter was sub-par, and I'm glad you're here to tell me why and pinpoint the areas that were weak. Personally, I like Carrionpaw more than Flynn, but Flynn is a more outspoken cat, so he's more prominent in the story. Anyway, I removed the first line (especially because the last chapter started the same way, oops) and hopefully this one has a nicer flow.

Thanks for reading and please review!

PV :)


	21. Chapter Nineteen

**CHAPTER NINETEEN  
><strong>

It was a cool day in ShadowClan territory. The sky was clear and the sun was out, though the tall pines covering the expanse of the territory blocked out most of the light. A slight breeze drifted through the forest, causing the ragged evergreens to rustle and their branches to sway. Beneath his paws, Sootclaw could feel the crunch of snow, the occasional needle reaching up to prick gently at his paw pads. It wasn't a bad day for training by far, though the grey clouds in the distance hinted at rain or snow. Everything was frozen in the forest, covered in a gleaming layer of ice. It all seemed so fragile, and it was oddly beautiful. Nothing moved except for the dark grey tom and his apprentice.

"That was awful," said Sootclaw. He lashed tail impatiently as he stared down his young apprentice. They were doing some fighting training and Pigeonpaw had just barely managed to stay on his feet during his mentor's assault. He had lunged first, and instead of dropping to let his much larger mentor sail over him, Pigeonpaw had reared up and tried to swat him away. Sootclaw had knocked the grey-and-white tom down, though the spiky-furred apprentice had rolled away and leapt back up after. Sootclaw had then chased him down with an barrage of blows, which Pigeonpaw had barely blocked while retreating. Though his apprentice had stayed up for the latter part of the fight, Sootclaw had kept expecting him to pitch backward and land on his rump in the snowdrifts.

Pigeonpaw said nothing, merely avoiding his mentor's gaze. The normally plump tom was growing skinnier with each passing day, though his complaints were lessening. He had lost some of his excited air, for which Sootclaw was glad, and had become considerably more demure. Still, there was lots of work to be done.

Sootclaw sighed. "Let's do it again."

Then Pigeonpaw did something surprising. "No," he mewed.

The smoky grey warrior blinked. "What did you say?"

Pigeonpaw took a deep breath, his legs shaking slightly. "I said _no_."

Sootclaw was floored. He wasn't sure what had just happened. He was used to Pigeonpaw's cheekiness, but this was different. His apprentice wasn't just sassing him – he was ready to start a serious argument. He was disobeying direct orders. The tom narrowed his eyes. "What's going on?"

The spiky-furred apprentice snorted. "You really want to know?"

That felt like a trick question. Sootclaw took a step towards his young charge, aware that his neck fur had fluffed up and his muscles were taut. He would never hurt Pigeonpaw, of course, but he couldn't deny that he was both confused and angry. "Of course," he mewed.

"No you don't," said Pigeonpaw quickly. Sootclaw was taken aback. It had been a trick question. Before he could process that, Pigeonpaw continued. "You don't want to know how I feel. You just want me to shut up and take all of your insults and pretend that maybe next time, I'll get it right. Well you know what, Sootclaw? I'm sick of it."

"Don't talk to your mentor like that." Sootclaw's neck fur was lying down and he was no longer bristling, but there was still a cold anger to his voice. It was unfamiliar, but he grasped onto it. It was useful for keeping himself together. He tried to push Pigeonpaw's words away. _Insults_. The young tom was just sensitive, that was all.

Pigeonpaw didn't bother acknowledging his words. "Look, Sootclaw, all you ever do is tell me that I'm not good enough. And yeah, sometimes I don't try hard, because I know I'll never be good enough for you. You're a great warrior. I'm not. I'll never be as good as you – I'm not exceptional. I'm not a good hunter. I can't really even fight! But sometimes I do try, and...and when I do, you never seem to notice. All that ever comes out of your mouth is criticism! Do you think I don't know that I have no balance, or that my crouch is lopsided, or that I look like a sick badger, or that I'm not as strong or as fit as Tanpaw and Nightpaw? I know all of those things. I don't need you telling me them every _single_ day."

All the air had escaped from Sootclaw's lungs. He felt frozen, winded, unable to stop the flood of anger flowing toward him. He had never realized Pigeonpaw felt this way. He had...he had never really _thought_ about it, to be honest. "Pigeonpaw..."

But Pigeonpaw wasn't finished. "You don't even like me! You don't even want to be my mentor. Eaglestar has to give me my assessments because you don't care, you're never around – and guess what, I'm failing them. Everyone always tells me that you're such a great warrior, that you defeated Falconswoop and saved my father's life, and that I'm _lucky_ to have you as my mentor." Here, his expression twisted into one of sheer disgust. "I don't feel lucky. I would rather have _any other warrior_ in this Clan as my mentor, because at least they would try to help me instead of making me feel like such an abysmal failure _all the time_."

"Pigeonpaw!" Sootclaw tried once more to get his apprentice's attention, but the spiky-furred tom was in no mood to listen. There was anger shining in his eyes, anger and righteousness. Sootclaw had the impression that these were words Pigeonpaw had been meaning to say for a long time.

"You know what, Sootclaw?" Pigeonpaw's voice was becoming frantic. "I even asked Eaglestar to switch mentors – and he said no. So when Tanpaw and Nightpaw have their warrior names and I don't...it'll be your fault."

Those words wrenched at Sootclaw's heart and hurt more than anything else. He shook his head and opened his mouth, desperate to explain, to justify, to make Pigeonpaw understand...but no words came out. He didn't know what to say. There was nothing _to_ say, really. Pigeonpaw was right. He hadn't been the greatest of mentors. He was so peeved at his apprentice all the time, he never really wondered if Pigeonpaw was peeved at him as well.

Maybe he didn't always know best.

Pigeonpaw narrowed his eyes and turned away. "I'm going back to camp."

"Don't," was all Sootclaw managed to say. His apprentice ignored him, and Sootclaw watched as he padded away, disappearing into the treeline. "No..."

_StarClan_, he swore. In that moment, he felt more alone than ever. He needed Dawnpaw desperately, but she was gone. She hadn't talked to him since warning him of WindClan's attack. He missed the feeling of her mind touching his. He missed the way her mind trembled when he spoke to her. His heart thudded against his ribs and he found himself on the verge of breaking down. If only he could just collapse right here and now. Staring down at the snow, Sootclaw wondered if the Dark Forest was below him. _Take me now_, he thought. He almost wished they would.

But there was still a reason he needed to stay here. There was still one cat who was there for him, who loved him. He closed his eyes and brought her beautiful face to his mind. _Lilystream_. The she-cat he loved more than anything else.

Of all the things going wrong in his life, luck still came through for him. She was the one cat he needed the most right now – and they had already arranged a meeting tonight.

.

He left camp as soon as night had fallen, slipping away before anyone could notice. Only Greywing, sitting guard over the camp, remarked upon his leaving. "Where are you headed, Sootclaw?" asked the skinny tom amicably. Looking at him and his thin frame, Sootclaw wondered how he could possibly withstand the harsh cold.

"Out for a walk," said Sootclaw darkly. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight. Things aren't going so great with Pigeonpaw, and I just need some time by myself. I think I might patrol the border. I don't know."

Greywing nodded sympathetically. "I understand. We've all been through some tough times. Your issue with Pigeonpaw – is it anything I can help with? I'm going out hunting tomorrow with Nightpaw and wouldn't mind an extra set of paws."

Sootclaw blinked. On one paw, he knew he should be starting to pay better attention to his apprentice. On the other, it would be good to give time for Pigeonpaw to cool down. Seeing the young apprentice tomorrow would be very awkward. Besides, he would be tired from his night out. He would need the rest. "That...that would be great, Greywing, thanks."

"Not a problem," mewed Greywing cheerfully.

There was a pause. Sootclaw searched for something to say. "How's Sprucetail?"

Greywing's face sobered. "She's good," he mewed softly. "The cold isn't easy on her or the kits, especially because she's nursing Hailkit now as well. But she's a strong warrior and they're strong kits. They'll be apprentices soon enough. I hope Seedfur gets one – she's been desperate to prove herself ever since Kitetail left."

_Kitetail_. Sootclaw turned away so Greywing wouldn't see him wince. He missed his brother. It would be so good to have him in ShadowClan, though he knew the medicine cat probably wouldn't approve of his cross-Clan relationship. He sighed, feeling the ache in his chest intensify. "Right. Well... I'll see you later, Greywing."

The skinny warrior blinked sympathetically. "Take care, Sootclaw."

Guilt blossomed in his chest as he padded away from camp. Sootclaw tried to stuff those feelings away. He hated lying to his Clanmates, but what else could he do? Cringing, he let the darkness of the forest swallow him whole.

.

By the time he arrived at the RiverClan border, the moon was shining high in the night sky. It was nearly full, and Sootclaw knew there would be a Gathering tomorrow. He stared up at the sky for a moment. It was pitch-black and dotted with thousands of bright stars. His fallen ancestors, who were watching over him, glimmered brightly. He hoped they didn't disapprove of what he was doing. He hoped they understand.

_I'm trying, StarClan_, he thought desperately. _Really, I am. I want to be a better mentor for Pigeonpaw. It's just so hard now that Dawnpaw's gone, you know? Sometimes I don't know what I'm doing anymore._

Vaguely, he wondered if Brambleclaw was watching over him. The tabby had been his guide once before, and for a moment, Sootclaw wished he would glide down from StarClan with all of the answers on his back. But StarClan could no longer interfere in Clan business. It was too risky.

He opened his mouth and was immediately overcome by a familiar scent. His heartbeat quickened and his body filled with excitement. He turned toward the scent's direction, eyes bright and eager. "Lilystream!" he mewed, and suddenly everything was alright once more.

The she-cat wound her way toward him through the reeds. He drank in the sight of her, loving the way her blue-grey pelt reflected the moon, and how her eyes glittered with starlight. The tom got up to meet her, pressing his muzzle against hers and feeling his whole body shudder with relief. "I missed you," he mewed quietly, pulling away. "You're so beautiful, even without that lump on your belly."

She purred and swatted at him playfully. Sootclaw just grinned, his chest alive with happiness. "What?" he asked cheekily, though his smarmy tone couldn't contain his bursting emotions. "It really was one of your best features."

It was so good to see her again, with all that he'd been through. She was his only solace right now and he needed her. Sootclaw wondered if she would ever fully understand the depth of his feelings. He remembered when he had stayed in RiverClan and she had comforted him, sleeping the night by his side. He had loved her even then. He loved her now, but it was a million times stronger, a million times deeper.

"I'm glad you seem to think so," she said, with a laugh. Their eyes met and he immediately softened as he let her love flow into him. She was so graceful; it took his breath away.

There was something he needed to tell her. "Lilystream."

The seriousness of his voice caught her attention. "Yes, Sootclaw?"

He loved the way she said his name. It sent a shiver down his spine. He moved closer to her and pressed his muzzle to her cheek, revelling in the feeling of her skin. "You know how much I love you, right? You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I swear it on StarClan."

She leaned into him and he lost himself in the warmth of her touch. "I know," she mewed quietly. "I know. I love you too, Sootclaw. So much."

If only he could stay like this forever.

The she-cat pulled away. "I didn't come alone," she said quietly.

He frowned. "What do you mean?" Sootclaw mewed, mind filled with the vision of Toadstripe leaping from the bushes and slicing his throat.

Her face erupted into a smile. "Come on out, kits."

_No... _His breath flew out of his body as he watched the reeds rustle and three tiny kits emerge. They padded toward him slowly, staring up at him with wide, trusting eyes. The one leading the group was the biggest, a white-furred tom with amber eyes, surprisingly already showing their true colour. He was followed by a fluffy tortoiseshell, whose eyes were still a bright kit-blue. Last of all came the skinny, long-legged one, his golden-brown fur fluffed up against the wind.

Sootclaw didn't know how to feel. The kits sitting in front of them... they were _his_. He had long thought about this moment, but now that it was here, had no idea what to say. He loved them all so much. His chest felt like it would explode from pride.

"Icekit, Thornkit, Cricketkit, this is your father, Sootclaw," said Lilystream softly.

Thornkit narrowed her eyes. "He stinks!" she announced.

Sootclaw couldn't help but chuckle. He met Lilystream's eyes and saw his amusement echoed in them. Cricketkit padded toward him, bumping Thornkit out of the way. "That's _ShadowClan_ smell, mousebrain. It's supposed to be gross so we don't cross their border."

Icekit merely made a _hrumph_ noise and sat himself down. "Mom, if this is our father, why does he smell like ShadowClan?"

Sootclaw felt his breath catch in his throat. Maybe they were making a mistake by introducing him to the kits. Worry suddenly pierced him. Maybe the kits couldn't handle it. He didn't want them growing up and carrying this burden. He should have thought about it before.

"Your father is from ShadowClan," mewed Lilystream softly.

Thornkit wrinkled his nose. "That's dumb. He should come home with us."

Sootclaw laughed, casting Lilystream an anxious gaze. They should have known the kits were too young to understand. "I wish I could." StarClan, what had he been thinking? He loved them so much and now it was starting to hurt just a little bit. They were too young to understand it, and he envied them.

"Your father is a very important warrior," mewed Lilystream patiently. She looked down at the kits and the expression in her eyes, full of pure, unconditional love, blew him away. The bond between them was evident. "He has to stay in ShadowClan."

Sootclaw nodded and tried to look self-important. "Can you kits do something very important for me?"

Cricketkit and Thornkit looked up, eager to please. Even Icekit, stolid as he was, seemed interested. Sootclaw purred as he looked down at them. "I want you to keep this a secret, okay? Think of it as warrior training. You have to be able to keep secrets."

Thornkit nodded eagerly, and Icekit followed suit. Cricketkit looked up at him with wide blue eyes. Despite his young age, his resemblance to Sootclaw's mother was uncanny. There was just something about his face that blew Sootclaw away. "But why?" he asked, plaintively. "I want to tell my friends Birdkit and Marshkit how good a warrior you are. They'll be so jealous."

"You don't have to make them jealous," said Sootclaw in amusement, though on the inside he burned with pride. "They'll be your friends anyway, right?"

Next it was Thornkit who piped up. "Will you teach me how to be a great warrior?"

Sootclaw was taken a little off-guard. "You'll have to ask your mother," he mewed, casting Lilystream a nervous glance. Would it still be safe to meet up with them when they were older?

"But..." Cricketkit trailed off. "Sootclaw...will you still like us even if we're not great warriors like you?"

Icekit snorted. "Speak for yourself. I'm going to be a _better_ warrior."

Sootclaw blinked. "Of course I'd still like you. I love all three of you. You're my kits. It doesn't matter whether or not you go up to be great warriors. I'd love you if you grew up to be medicine cats, or if you wanted to be a queen, Thornkit." The tortoiseshell made a face of disgust. Sootclaw continued: "You don't have to be the best warrior in the Clan to make me proud. Just do your best and be happy..." His eyes widened as he trailed off. StarClan take it all, he had been so blind! What a fool. He must have bees in his brain.

There was another cat who deserved his recognition as well. _Pigeonpaw_.

"Are you alright, Sootclaw?" asked Lilystream gently.

He frowned. "Of course. Sorry."

"Good," she mewed, pressing up against him. The kits padded forward and clambered into the hollow between his legs and his chest. Sootclaw felt their warmth against him and sighed, contented. This was his family. He was at home.

"I love you," he told Lilystream once more.

She purred, a deep vibration that reverberated through his chest. "I know, Sootclaw. I know."

.

To Sootclaw's anger, he wasn't picked to go to the Gathering the next night. Instead, he waited impatiently in the clearing for the chosen ShadowClan cats to return. Pigeonpaw had gone, along with Nightpaw, though Tanpaw remained. The burly young apprentice sat by his den, silently awaiting the return of his siblings. Milkyfur and Flowerpelt waited with him. Sootclaw had tried to make idle conversation, but he was too distracted – he needed to know what had happened with ThunderClan.

Finally, they returned. Sootclaw felt as though he had been waiting forever. He leapt up, hoping to see Pigeonpaw's face in the crowd. His apprentice was there, but when he saw Sootclaw, he ducked his head and turned away, making a beeline straight for Tanpaw. The dun-coloured apprentice met with him eagerly, desperate to know about the night's events.

Sootclaw padded up to Redfur, who was walking slightly apart from the rest of the group. "Anything important?" he asked.

She nodded. "Lots. Eaglestar will tell you."

The golden-brown tom was indeed preparing to make a statement. Sootclaw turned his attention toward his leader. He needed to know that ThunderClan was okay. If anyone had touched Dawnpaw, he would personally kill them.

The gathered cats fell silent as Eaglestar began to speak. "Tonight's Gathering was... _unusual_, to say the least," he mewed, pausing for effect. "WindClan did not show up; however, ThunderClan insists that WindClan attacked them. ThunderClan has also taken in a group of loners, providing them shelter for the leafbare. RiverClan is reporting a missing apprentice."

"Missing?" called out Sprucetail. She was standing by the nursery, her tail drawn over Streakkit and Fennelkit protectively. "What happened?"

Eaglestar met her gaze solemnly. "They don't know. Apparently she went hunting and never came back. It has been almost a moon. The other Clans swear they know nothing about it."

"Could WindClan have something to do with it?" asked Flowerpelt quietly.

"I wish I knew," mewed Eaglestar. "But it is not our place to intervene."

Seedfur spoke up. "Am I the only one who thinks ThunderClan is mouse-brained for taking in three loners when they can barely feed themselves?"

Sprucetail nodded in agreement. "It seems suspicious..."

"ThunderClan has always been known for helping the weak, even at their own expense," mewed Eaglestar, voice laced with a hint of scorn. "But from what I have heard, these loners are fighters. Perhaps we should be worried."

"Do you really think they would attack us?" asked Sootclaw. He doubted it. ThunderClan and ShadowClan had no reason to fight.

"I don't like to think so," said Eaglestar, "but all the other Clans have been acting strangely. Even RiverClan was...odd at the Gathering. They acted as though there was something to hide."

The ShadowClan cats exchanged nervous glances. Vaguely, Sootclaw wondered how Hailstripe would have reacted to this. He still missed his mentor, even after all these moons. He turned his head to look at the nursery and saw Hailkit sitting by himself, tail curled over his paws. He sat very proudly, and Sootpaw couldn't help but be impressed. There was something about Hailkit, something strong.

"Should we worry, Eaglestar?" asked Sprucetail.

The large tom paused. "I wouldn't say we should worry – but we should be prepared. Always stay alert, and remember, expect no friendship from the other Clans."

**XX XX XX XX**

**A/N**: So I absolutely adore Pigeonpaw more than anything else. He's growing up (at last). Poor Sootclaw has been so pre-occupied with everything that he's neglected his young charge. Can he get that back on track? We'll see. Anyway, a lot of things are happening in this chapter. Sootclaw sees his kits for the first time! He's also starting to realize that it's going to be tougher than he expected. There's no real conflict in this chapter, nothing exciting, but next chapter we head back to Thickfur (I know! Ah! I'm so excited to start writing it!) and things start to get serious.

Plus, with next chapter written, we will be halfway through the second book - and halfway through the trilogy.

I don't really have much to say in regard to this chapter. Next is Thickfur, then Sootclaw and Fogpaw, then Kitetail, and finally another Dawnpaw chapter. She's still plugging away at her goal down there in the Dark Forest. We'll also get back to Grainstar eventually; I haven't forgotten about him!

**FawnHasAnArmyOfEvilPuppies:** Haha yeah, well, they've basically been spending every moment together for the past while, so it shouldn't come as too big of a shock.

**Coqui's Song:** Hmm, I'll try to find some evidence of you hating him, haha. As for Chantelle, don't worry, you're not supposed to love her. Thanks for reviewing!

**Aspen:** Hey there, welcome aboard! Thanks for the review, it's really appreciated! Yeah, poor Elmheart, he's not in the best of positions. Anyway, here's your Sootclaw chapter, I hope you like it! :)

**Senora Sapphire:** Meet Sootclaw's kits! I love them, hope you do too. Sorry about your DawnxElm dreams being temporarily quashed, though. Thanks for the review!

**Rebel Kitty Cat:** Hey! Thanks for reviewing and welcome, haha! Hope to hear from you again! Thickfur isn't out of the picture as far as Dawnpaw's future romance goes, though neither is anyone else. You're just going to have to wait and see! But I think there are other ThickxDawn shippers, yes.

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	22. Chapter Twenty

**CHAPTER TWENTY  
><strong>

"You wanted to see me?" Thickfur strode into his father's den, his grey pelt dotted with snow. There was a lump of it on his muzzle that refused to come off and it had already put him in a surly mood. The weather was getting worse and worse, and between the attack, Dawnpaw's predicament, and Kitetail's mistrust, the tabby warrior was in no mood to deal with it.

Slatestar looked up. The tom was curled up in his next, sharing tongues with Grasscloud. The two exchanged a brief look, and Grasscloud got to her paws. Thickfur watched with narrowed eyes as she padded past him. The she-cat and his father had been growing closer lately, and it unsettled him. He knew Slatestar was a grown cat, capable of making his own decisions, but there was a part of Thickfur that regarded it as a betrayal. His mother might be dead, but she was not gone.

"Yes," mewed Slatestar. "Come in and take a seat." The dark grey tom showed none of the stress that must have been bothering him. He was calm and composed, and if the attacks had taken a toll on him, Thickfur couldn't tell.

Thickfur did as he was told. "What's this about?" he asked.

His father took a deep breath. When he met Thickfur's gaze, his eyes were apologetic. "It's about Dawnpaw."

Thickfur couldn't help it. He flinched, sure that Slatestar must have noticed. "What about Dawnpaw?" he asked, immediately defensive. He couldn't rid Kitetail's words from his mind: _she hated you_. He held on to the hope that they were a lie, inflicted only in anger. But the medicine cat had sounded so convincing, and Thickfur couldn't stand it. He might have been too harsh on the young tom. Might have. Maybe.

"Thickfur..." Slatestar exhaled. "We have to start facing the possibility that Dawnpaw...she might not recover."

"No!" The words were a reflex, shot out of his mouth. Slatestar's words whipped at him, inflicting injury. Thickfur refused to consider the possibility that she might not recover. It was unthinkable. Impossible, even. She would find a way through, he knew it.

"I'm sorry," said Slatestar, his voice heavy. "But she's been in that coma for almost a moon now, and there's nothing Kitetail can do to help her. And if she does manage to recover, she might not be the same."

"So you're giving up?" asked Thickfur, voice rising. He was growing angry, but he didn't care. Let Slatestar know how angry he was, how furious that the tom had even suggested giving up on Dawnpaw. She was part of ThunderClan too, and the warrior code called upon them to protect the weak. Right now, she needed their protection more than ever. Thickfur tried to convince himself that was why he was so vehement, that it had nothing to do with any personal attachment he had developed, but failed miserably.

"I didn't say that," said Slatestar flatly. "I just think we should move on in case the worst occurs. We can't live our lives waiting for something that might never happen."

"It _will_ happen," Thickfur insisted. "She will get better, and I _will_ wait."

"Please, don't be like this." Slatestar sighed. "Listen, Breezekit and Mothkit are about a moon from being apprenticed. I was thinking of giving you one – your pick."

Thickfur snorted in bitter derision. "Sounds great. Why don't you just give me Breezekit? Then, when his seizures start getting worse, we can go through this process all over again."

"Listen to me." Slatestar's voice was strained. "If Dawnpaw recovers, we'll figure it out. If she doesn't, though – and this is looking more and more likely – then we need to move on with our lives. You of all cats should understand this, Thickfur."

"Me of all cats? Are you talking about – my mother?" He was stunned. His father was pulling a cheap shot on him and it hurt beyond belief. Thickfur wanted to scream at the dark grey tom. _She was your mate. She loved you. Don't do this to me._ But he shut his eyes and forced the anger and frustration down and concentrated on Dawnpaw. "Look. You gave me Dawnpaw to mentor. She's my responsibility, and I won't let her down. I won't give up on her. I _refuse_. I will stand by her until the very end, and more than anything, _I_ _will not betray her._"

"Thickfur – " began his father, but before Slatestar could find the words, Thickfur turned and walked out of the den. He didn't want to hear it. He wouldn't break his solemn promise to Dawnpaw by taking on a new apprentice.

He could hear his father calling his name, but he ignored it, his ears burning. The very nature of the conversation had offended him. How dare Slatestar imply that Dawnpaw wouldn't recover? Of course she would. As weak and frail as she was, as shy and as quiet, as much as she frustrated, Thickfur would not deny that she was resilient. He remembered comforting her by Brindlefeather's body and remembered how she had overcome her fear to stop her murderous brother.

_Branchpaw_. It had been a long time since he had thought of the tom. Once a fixture in ThunderClan camp, he was gone now, and Thickfur hardly noticed his absence. He wondered how Dawnpaw dealt with it, dealt with her guilt. Then he realized he was thinking too much about Dawnpaw, and tried to shut her out of his mind.

And yet, despite his irritation with that fact, he went to Kitetail's den to check on her anyway.

.

The den was warmer than the air outside, for which Thickfur was grateful. He sat by Dawnpaw's nest, the lump of snow still present on his muzzle. He glared at it, crossing his eyes as he did so, and blinked at the sudden pain. Today really wasn't his day. Dawnpaw, on the other hand, look as warm as could be, surrounded by moss and down. She twitched occasionally, stirring in her sleep, the sight of which filled Thickfur with hope.

The sound of pawsteps made him turn around. Kitetail entered the den, a scant packet of herbs clutched in his jaws. An awkward look passed between them. Thickfur felt his chest constrict. He didn't want to be anywhere near the medicine cat, not after what had happened between them. He understood why Kitetail had suspected him, though he would never admit it. He narrowed his eyes.

Kitetail coughed. "I didn't know you were here."

"Yeah," said Thickfur. There was a pause. He thought of things he could say to hurt Kitetail but refrained from vocalizing any of them. "I came to check on her."

"There's no change," said Kitetail softly. His posture was meek, submissive, as if he expected Thickfur to snap at him any second.

"I noticed," said Thickfur, though there was no snark to his voice. He was far too sullen to attempt sarcasm. "Collecting herbs?"

Kitetail nodded, letting out a dry chuckle. "Not that there's a lot to be found...Alder's bringing in some of the others."

Thickfur frowned. Kitetail had been spending an awful lot of time with the loner lately. Apparently they were friends now, though the last time Thickfur had checked, the two didn't get along. Whatever the case, he didn't want Alder coming into the den. "I'll go get them," he mewed. "Where is he?"

"Just coming into camp now," mewed Kitetail. He was uneasy, Thickfur realized; he was trying to balance making both Thickfur and Alder happy, and they clearly they both couldn't be in the den at once. If Thickfur had his way, Alder would never be in there at all.

"I'll meet him," he said, and slipped out of the den. As he passed Kitetail, he felt the tabby tom tense slightly.

The second Thickfur went back into the clearing, he knew something was different, _wrong_. The snow was falling faster and thicker than ever, and when he looked up, there was only the whiteness of the sky. It had not been like this a few minutes ago. He tensed, unsure of what was happening, not wanting to believe his eyes. But the drifts were falling heavier and heavier, and as he looked up, it showed no signs of stopping. It was starting to pile by his feet now. Thickfur felt his blood run cold.

Kitetail must have noticed his confusion, for he padded out of the den. "What is – oh!" he let out an expression of surprise as he was immediately overcome by the falling snow. "A blizzard?"

Thickfur nodded slowly. "Yeah..." He trailed off. "We have to tell Slatestar and evacuate the camp."

Kitetail grimaced, probably at the thought of another evacuation. "Why? It's just snow?"

The grey tabby sighed through gritted teeth. "Where do we live, Kitetail? ThunderClan camp is a hole in the ground. A hole that will fill up _quickly_."

He watched as understanding passed over Kitetail's face and his eyes widened in disbelief, and finally horror. "Oh, StarClan," was all he said. Around the camp, others were beginning to notice the sudden storm as well.

"Go warn Slatestar," said Thickfur urgently. "_Quick_."

Kitetail didn't need more instruction than that. He took off for their leader's den. Thickfur ran toward the clearing, trying to do a head count. Who was in camp at the moment? Who was out on a patrol? Nettleclaw would know. Was the deputy even in camp? Worry pierced him, sharp and cold.

It barely took a moment for Slatestar to erupt from his den. "We're evacuating _now_," he announced, booming voice echoing off the rock walls. "The most important thing is getting out of camp and into the woods. We'll be safer up there, and we'll have more time to find shelter."

Thickfur nodded in approval. Anywhere was safer than the ThunderClan camp. Though the shape was convenient for dealing with enemies, it was a natural hazard. The snow would build up, piling over the dens and trapping anything inside. The snow would also build up into huge drifts at the quarry's edges, and Thickfur knew it would be bad if those drifts happened to fall over the side and onto any cats below.

Slatestar's voice was urgent as he relayed his final instructions. "We'll also need someone to help with the elders." The tom paused. "Go. _Now_."

From that point on, it was a frantic dash out of camp. The snow was piling up faster than Thickfur could track it, and he watched as cats struggled through the drifts to make their way out of camp. The trail out was becoming steeper and steeper with every passing second. He watched as Beechclaw and Auburnfur made their way out, their kits clutched in their mouth. Larkflight was behind them, supporting Foxwhisker on her shoulder. Owlfeather padded by their side for safety.

"Thickfur, are you coming?" asked Owlfeather, twisting around as he walked by.

"I have to get Dawnpaw," said Thickfur, shaking his head. He turned away from Owlfeather and ran over to the medicine cat's den, prepared to pull his apprentice to safety. His stomach churned with anxiety. How would she react to being moved? Could her body handle it?

Just as he was about to head inside, he heard his name being called. Swearing under his breath, he turned to see Elmheart yelling for him. The golden-brown warrior, with Chantelle at his side, was forcing Cherrytail up the slope. The queen was resisting, yowling something fierce down into the clearing. Thickfur frowned, trying to make out what Elmheart was saying. The young warrior repreated himself: "Grab Limekit!"

Oh. That explained everything. The small kit was still in the snow at the bottom of the clearing, mewling for his mother. He must have tumbled away from Cherrytail on his way up the slope, but Elmheart wasn't about to risk the queen's safety to let her fetch him. Thickfur bounded over, grabbing Limekit by the scruff of his neck. The off-white bundle resisted at first, but was eventually content to swing from Thickfur's jaws.

Annoyed at the inconvenience, Thickfur brought Limekit up to the top of the slope, where the others were waiting. Cherrytail let out a gasp of relief, rushing over to collect her kit, burying her face in his fur.

"Is this everyone?" asked Slatestar.

Thickfur shook his head. "Dawnpaw's still down there."

From behind him, Foxwhisker let out a gasp. "So's Snowfoot."

"I'll get them both," said Thickfur, though he wasn't quite sure how. Without a second thought, he bounded back down into the clearing.

The snow had deepened and he struggled to make his way through it. If he wasn't seeing it for himself, the grey tom would never believe that snow could fall this fast. The air around him filling with snow and obscuring his vision. Gritting his teeth, he made his way toward the elder's den, where he knew Snowfoot would be waiting. Pushing his way into the entrance, he saw the old white tom, cowering with fear.

"Snowfoot, come with me," he barked, lashing his tail. "Quick, we don't have much time."

The blind tom rose to his paws shakily, following the sound of Thickfur's voice. Thickfur rushed to his side, allowing the tom to lean on his shoulders. They had made it to the centre of the camp when Thickfur heard a loud crack. He stiffened.

Was that – StarClan, it was. There was another crack. One of the trees standing at the top of the quarry, already rotten with age, had started to split. Thickfur did the only thing he could think of, shoving Snowfoot into the medicine cat's den. The elder stumbled as he made his way inside the rock cranny. As it was inside the wall, it was probably the safest place in camp.

Thickfur looked up. The tree was teetering precariously over the edge. It would fall, he could tell, and block their exit from camp. Swearing under his breath, he threw himself into the den after Snowfoot. Just as he regained his balance, skidding on the ground inside, there was another loud crack and the tree fell into the stone hollow.

It hit the ground with a resounding thud. Thickfur watched as a segment of the trunk landed in front of the den's entrance. The grey tabby could hardly bear to breathe. They had avoided between squashed, but they were still trapped here. It was the safest place he could think of – the snow would not reach inside the nook, merely pile up outside, but there was no way they were getting out any time soon.

"Are you okay?" he asked, turning to Snowfoot.

The old tom nodded. "What was that sound?" he asked, still trembling.

"A tree fell," said Thickfur grimly. "We're stuck here until morning. They'll dig us out when the blizzard stops." He peered out of the slight opening that the tree had left and saw that the elder's den was completely crushed beneath its branches. It was a good thing he had gotten Snowfoot out in time.

Snowfoot was safe. But what about Dawnpaw?

Heart in his throat, he padded over to the ginger she-cat. She was still sound asleep, and he felt reassured watching the rhythmic movement of her chest as she breathed in and out. _You didn't even notice, did you_, he thought. _Lucky_.

"How long until morning?" asked Snowfoot. He was shivering, and not just from the cold. Thickfur suspected that the scare had seriously rattled the elder.

He took another look out of the den, noticing that the open space was almost completely filled with snow. Their light would soon be gone. Thickfur glanced up at the sky. "It's dusk, I think," he mewed. "Try to get some sleep."

"What about the rest of the Clan?" asked Snowfoot, settling down into Kitetail's bed of moss. "Did they make it out?"

Thickfur nodded. "They'll be fine," he mewed, moving away from the entrance. His eyes found Dawnpaw and he padded toward her, curling up beside the slender apprentice. The snow was beginning to melt into his fur and he found himself shivering as well. Hopefully huddling with his apprentice would help them both preserve warmth.

He settled against her, placing his head on his paws, aware that her scent was wrapped around him. "You'll be fine," he promised her, though he knew she couldn't hear him. "I promised I'd keep you safe and I will, you'll see." It was odd, how he could only say these things to her when she wasn't around to listen.

No matter what Slatestar said, he wouldn't abandon her.

.

Thickfur couldn't sleep. It was night, and the small den was filled with absolute darkness. His eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, and he could see Snowfoot across from him, the old tom sleeping soundly in his nest. The grey warrior had all but lost track of time, and he wondered vaguely when it would be morning, and when help would arrive.

Beside him, Dawnpaw twitched in her sleep. He looked at her, feeling a half-smile come across his face. He was proud of her, though he would never admit it. Whatever was happening to her, she was fighting it. She was still alive, and he knew she would make her way back to ThunderClan. She had to.

"I should have told you that I was proud of you," he said, a bit sadly. "After what happened with Branchpaw – not any cat could have done that. It took guts. I guess it wouldn't have hurt for me to show a bit more compassion, huh? I was so cruel to you, I thought it would make you stronger. If you come back, I promise to be fairer. Just _please_ come back."

Thickfur realized he was choked with emotion. The feeling was unusual to him and he frowned, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. This wasn't like him. He didn't show emotion. He kept it wrapped up in the back of his mind where he would never have to deal with it. But something about Dawnpaw was drawing it forth. He felt connected to the young she-cat. She was his responsibility, his charge. It was the greatest responsibility any cat could have, to be a mentor. He wished she knew how much he wanted to help her, how much he wanted her to be great, but it was hard to know those things without being told, and he had never had the courage or the inclination to say them.

He glanced over at Snowfoot. The tom was still sleeping, which was good. The elder hadn't heard him. Thickfur couldn't help it – he felt embarrassed by the feelings that had poured out of him. He was a warrior, a tom cat, and he had a reputation for being gruff. He wasn't supposed to show he had emotions. Yet just because he repressed them didn't mean they didn't exist.

"You probably think I'm a jerk," he said to Dawnpaw, letting out a dry chuckle. "I guess you're right. I know your life has been hard so far, but well, mine was too. My mother – Flamefur – she died when I was just a kit. It hurt all of us. Slatestar decided to make me his apprentice, even though it wasn't usual for a father to mentor his own son. He didn't treat me like a son, then, though. He treated me the way any warrior would treat his apprentice. I think he was trying to forget, too. I don't know if he did...I didn't forget about my mother, I just learned it wasn't okay to think about it, that I had to put it behind me. But I couldn't stop feeling _guilty_..."

Thickfur sighed. "Anyway, I just...I don't know why I'm saying these things. You can't hear me. I guess that's why, really. These are things I can't tell anyone." He was babbling, the tom realized. He was babbling and showing weakness and emotion and breaking down all of the barriers he had worked so hard to put up. He hated himself for it, but it felt so good, and the words just rolled off his tongue. He was looking for catharsis, for understanding, for redemption. And then, realizing he couldn't find it here, the sadness hit him.

StarClan, he was growing soft. "Look," he told Dawnpaw, adopting his gruff tone, "just be alright, okay?"

The weariness began to overtake him them. Sliding closer to the ginger she-cat, he revelled in her warmth as he placed his head on his paws. Sleep began to tug at him and, grateful, he let it take him into the darkness.

.

He woke to the sound of scratching. Thickfur bolted upright, searching for the source of the sound, before realizing it was the noise of his Clanmates digging at the entrance. The grey tabby let out a sigh of relief. The blizzard was over, the sun had risen, and they were going to be saved.

Beside him, Dawnpaw was still sleeping. Her chest was still rising, and he realized, with an inward whoop of joy, that she was no worse for the experience. She would be fine. The memory of all the things he had said last night came surging back to him, and the tom felt hot embarrassment run through him. He was so glad no one had heard his little speech. He didn't know what had come over him.

Then he looked at Snowfoot – and froze. The tom lay absolutely still, his chest unmoving. Thickfur rushed over to him, nosing the elder's side. "Snowfoot, wake up," he said, pushing him with more fervour. "Snowfoot!"

Thickfur pressed himself to the tom's side, and paled when he realized there was no heartbeat. He took a shaky step backward. "StarClan," he whispered. Snowfoot must have died in his sleep. At least it was peaceful, Thickfur rationalized. He was in StarClan now, and he hadn't suffered.

He stood there a moment before moving to the front of the den to help with the rescue effort. A hole was being cleared in the snow, though the tree still lay in the way. Peering through the newly-formed gap, he saw Larchstripe staring back at him. "Thickfur!" she exclaimed in obvious relief. "You're okay."

He nodded. "I'm fine. So's Dawnpaw."

Something in her face fell. "Snowfoot?" she asked.

Thickfur took a deep breath. "He – he didn't make it," the tom mewed. "I'm sorry."

She cringed. "How?"

"In his sleep," mewed Thickfur. He blinked reassuringly at the silver she-cat. "He didn't suffer, Larchstripe. I know that for certain."

She nodded. "Slatestar – he'll be upset." Snowfoot had been Slatestar's deputy before blindness had overtaken him. The two toms had grown up together, and had been close friends. As a kit, Thickfur had always considered Snowfoot as an older uncle.

"Yeah." Thickfur's voice was curt.

There was another pause, and then Larchstripe resumed her digging. Soon there was a hole large enough for him to wiggle through. "We're going to have to work on removing the tree," he said as he approached the gap. Larchstripe nodded and indicated that he should come out.

Thickfur pushed his way through the snow and the tangles of branches. Relief swelled through him as he stepped out into the clearing. Though the ground was covered in snow, it held underneath his weight. He breathed in the fresh air, feeling it cleanse his lungs.

His feeling of relief was short-lived as he looked around. The ThunderClan camp was covered in a layer of snow, the top of the dens just barely poking through the drifts. The tree that had fallen last night lay over a good half of the camp, making the way in extremely difficult to navigate.

It was going to take a lot of work to bring things back to normal.

**XX XX XX XX**

**A/N:** Here we are, at the end of another chapter! I've been waiting to write this one for over a year now. I'm so excited by it. We're also more than halfway done the story, something else that I can't fathom. We've come so far and yet there's still so far to go. Thanks to everyone who has, and is still, supporting me through this! I couldn't do it without you.

So. Thickfur. I love him. As for ThunderClan, things are really starting to fall apart. They're pretty vulnerable right now, with their camp in disarray, and the worst is yet to come.

I also have to apologize for a mistake on my part: I've been writing Larkflight as if she were a warrior, but she's actually an elder. Oops.

Lastly, there might be some new projects in the works. I don't want to take my attention away from this trilogy, but I do want to start something new and more character-based (and more 'shades of grey' as opposed to good v evil like this series (mostly) is. Stay tuned!

**FawnHasAnEvilArmyOfPuppies**: Chapter One and Chapter Six, for sure. You can start there. Thanks for the review!

**Coqui's Song:** I fell in love with Pigeonpaw. I'm not sure when it happened, but I definitely want to pay him some attention as he develops into a warrior. As for Thickfur... here you go. :D Btw, I'm half-done that stuff I owe ya. Thanks for reviewing!

**Honeycloud of RiverClan:** I'm not sure even Sootclaw knows who he really loves... Thanks! :)

**Senora Sapphire**: Haha, I say temporary because we're only halfway through the story. Anything could happen! So don't be too sure all of the pairings we're seeing right now are 'endgame', so to speak.

**Minatu-Chan:** Hey, thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you like the kits, I've had their personalities kicking around for a long time now!

**Justsmile77:** Haha, thanks. I looked up the quote, that's awesome!

Next chapter is... Sootclaw, again, so we can see how ShadowClan reacts to the blizzard, and Fogpaw! She'll have a much longer section this time around, I promise. After that, it's Dawnpaw, who I'm very excited to see again! I should mention that the next two chapters both take place at the exact same time as this one - while the blizzard is happening. (Well, Dawnpaw's is the morning after.)

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	23. Chapter Twenty-One

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE  
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One moment, everything was normal. Fogpaw lay in her nest, trying to pretend she was back in RiverClan camp, arguing with her brother over who would get to be the leader in their next mock battle. There was something wrong in her head, something buzzing, something which prevented her from even remembering Rainpaw's face. She could see in it her head, but it was blurred, off-focus, as if hidden from her behind a wall of water. _Rainpaw_, she thought, reaching for him. She had always complained about him, always hated how pompous he was, how _good_ he was, but now she missed him more than ever. Would she ever go home?

And then the snow began to fall. The flakes came slowly at first, dappling her forehead and her muzzle and soaking into her thick grey fur, and then they began to arrive faster and faster. Soon all Fogpaw could see out of her prison was a sky of pure white. The snow began to accumulate around her paws and she suddenly realized what was happening – she was going to be snowed in.

A cry rose up in her throat and she threw herself at the slope of the prison, desperately trying to scrabble up the steep wall. There was no more rational thought in her head, only the desperate need to escape this place. Adrenaline coursed through her, replacing her weakness with strength. She needed to get out of here. Snowflakes fell into her face and blurred her vision. Wind rushed into the prison, bringing with it the piercing cold.

Then the voices reached her. "Get her out, now!" That was Stormtail's voice.

"Yes, Stormtail!" said another voice hurriedly. Fogpaw recognize it as Cloudstorm, one of the warriors who accompanied Willowstar during the torture sessions. Cloudstorm spoke again: "Stripedpaw, Gorsetooth, come with me."

Fogpaw heard their footsteps approaching the den and she backed away out of instinct. Soon, the vine at the top of the den was thrown over the side and she watched as it dangled in front of her, unguarded. This was her chance. But something held her back. She watched as Cloudstorm's face appeared over the entrance, his eyes narrowed. "Climb, kittypet. Grab onto it."

She hated complying with them, hated it with a burning passion. Fire blazed within her, and for a moment, she was tempted to deny them the pleasure of saving her. But she forced it down, recognizing that her life was worth more than her pride, and she lunged forward, clasping the vine in her jaws.

They began to reel her up and she used her legs to support herself, pushing off against the steep wall. Her limbs protested but she forced them to keep working. There was no time for weakness, not now. Soon she emerged over the lip of the hole, out of her den, and into the real world once more.

What would have been her first real look at the WindClan camp was obscured by the blizzard. There was snow everywhere, and she could barely make out what was right in front of her nose. Cloudstorm was by her side, pressing her forward, while Gorsetooth padded behind her, giving her a nudge when she stalled. Stripedpaw followed them, anxiety written across his skinny face.

"Come with us," said Cloudstorm gruffly.

Fogpaw couldn't resist the opportunity to spite him. "Where are we going?" she asked, digging her paws into the ground. She wouldn't move until she got some answers.

The white warrior cuffed her over the head with a wide paw. Fogpaw winced at the blow, ducking her head and trying to hide her pain. The WindClan tom spat on the ground by her feet. "You aren't in a position to ask questions. We just saved your pathetic hide from being swallowed by the snow."

"After kidnapping me and torturing me," said Fogpaw, unable to resist pointing it out. It was odd, observing these warriors. Even though the darkness was all around them, asphyxiating them, there was a hint of WindClan underneath it all. Cloudstorm spoke with his own voice, not the voice of the darkness. He was more normal here than he had been around Willowstar, and Fogpaw wondered if WindClan's leader was the source of the darkness.

No, the darkness didn't come from her. But perhaps she was its focal point. Fogpaw stowed that possibility in her mind. It was an interesting thought, to be sure. Casting a glance at Cloudstorm, she wondered if he was fighting the darkness somewhere in his mind, or if he had already succumbed to it.

The tom narrowed his eyes. His hackles were raised and the fur on the back of his neck was fluffed menacingly. "Come with us," he repeated, barely suppressing a growl. "I will hurt you if I have to."

Deciding it wasn't wise to antagonize him any further, Fogpaw ducked her head and did as she was told. Her ear was still smarting from the blow and as the adrenaline rush died down, she became more away of the pain and the cold and the piercing wind than before. She had become so skinny and weak during her captivity that she was surprised the wind didn't just knock her to the ground.

Eventually, they reached a den that Fogpaw guessed had once been the nursery. The scent of milk and kits was present, though faint, overcome by the acrid stench of the darkness. Cloudstorm motioned for her to enter, which the she-cat did reluctantly.

"Gorsetooth will guard you," he said, voice biting. "Don't try anything. We would hate to have to hurt you." There was something sickeningly sweet about his voice that burned her. It was as if the darkness was winning again, pulling him back into its tender caresses.

Fogpaw shook her head. Tender caresses? Where had that come from? She froze for a moment, horrified at the idea that the darkness might be around her, trying to get in, plying at her thoughts. She gritted her teeth. There was no way she would let it overcome her. She would not turn into one of these sorry excuses for warriors.

"Cloudstorm," said Stripedpaw hesitantly.

The white warrior whipped around to look at him. "What?"

"She might be, umm, shocked by the sudden changes," mewed Stripedpaw, looking at his feet. "Can I bring her some poppy seeds to calm her down? It might be for the best. I mean, you don't want to lose the progress you've made."

Cloudstorm snorted. "Fine."

Stripedpaw left and Fogpaw stared after him with wide eyes. What progress? What was he talking about? Was there something Stripedpaw wasn't telling her? She felt her breath catch in her throat. Maybe Stripedpaw was working for them. Maybe he had been lying the whole time. But no, he couldn't be. Fogpaw had seen how scared he was, and she hadn't scented any of the darkness around him.

Gorsetooth settled himself by the front of the den. "Don't try anything," he told her with a sneer.

Fogpaw found the strength to roll her eyes, one more act of defiance, and settled in the corner of the nursery. It was warmer here than in the den, and there were some scraps of moss lying around that she rolled together to form a bed. If the blizzard had brought her an upgrade in prison quarters, she couldn't complain. Besides, being above ground meant an easier shot at escape.

_Escape_. If only. It would be so nice to return to RiverClan. All she wanted was to lose herself in her mother's embrace and feel safe for the first time in over a moon. Fogpaw let out a deep breath, imagining that she was burrowing her face into her mother's fur. She tried to remember her mother's scent, but it was gone. Fogpaw searched for it desperately, but the memory was lost. The realization made her cry out, a deep, keening moan.

Gorsetooth looked back, slightly startled by the noise. Fogpaw wilted under his gaze and moved to the back corner of the nursery, curling up into a little ball and trying to pretend none of this was real. She closed her eyes and pretended she was made of light, shining in the darkness of WindClan camp. Dark tendrils reached for her and she burned them away with the strength of her brightness.

Once again, she thought: _if only_.

Stripedpaw returned not long after. He padded slowly into the den, his head down and his shoulders sagging. Fogpaw narrowed her eyes, not sure where her feelings currently were on the tabby tom. If there was one word to describe him, it was coward. He could help her escape, she knew it, but he simply refused.

"I brought you poppy seeds," he said, dropping a bundle by her feet.

Fogpaw stayed silent, eyeing him warily.

"Fogpaw," he whined, refusing to meet her gaze. Once again, she wondered what had made him so frightened of her the last time they had met. "Please, eat them, you'll feel better."

"Why do you care?" she asked, satisfaction running through her as she watched him flinch. She knew it was childish to hold this vendetta aginst him, but it felt so good. It was a small victory, a sense of power that ran through her and helped her cope with everything that WindClan had done. She might be a prisoner, but here, facing Stripedpaw, her words made a difference.

He cowered in front of her. "They'll help."

"Why does it matter how I feel?" she asked, voice low so Gorsetooth wouldn't hear. "What are they up to, Stripedpaw? What do they need me for? The darkness isn't infecting me. We both know I'm not going to be able to spread it back to RiverClan – so what's left?"

Stripedpaw finally met her gaze. His golden eyes were wide with fear. The tom cast a nervous glance toward Gorsetooth before replying, his voice hushed. "They can't let you go now, not if it isn't working. You know too much."

"So why not just kill me?" It was question Fogpaw had been wondering for awhile.

Stripedpaw simply shook his head. "It's complicated."

The grey she-cat spat on the ground. "Try me."

"You're an experiment," he mumbled. "A weapon."

Fogpaw blinked. "What?"

"Stripedpaw, how long are you going to take?" Gorsetooth's voice, heavy with menace, cut through the cold air.

The two apprentices exchanged a nervous glance. Stripedpaw ducked his head. "Look, I should leave," he mumbled. "I'll be back later. Eat your poppy seeds!"

She watched him leave with narrowed eyes, anger and confusion both burning inside her. Fogpaw heard the tom chat with Gorsetooth, and she tracked his footsteps as he padded through the clearing back to the medicine cat's den. She even heard the rustle of gorse as he slipped inside. After that, the only soon was the wail of the wind, the soft patter of falling snow, and the rhythmic beat of Gorsetooth's shadowed heart.

.

As night fell, Fogpaw pretended to sleep, taking care to make her breathing seem as steady and as deep as possible. She kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut, monitoring her guard with her newfound hearing instead. Gorsetooth had been replaced by Rootfur. Her new guard was both smaller and younger than the previous tom, and it gave her an extra rush of hope. There was a chance her plan could work after all.

After what felt like forever, she heard a scuffing noise, the sound of Rootfur rising to his paws. Cracking her eyes open, Fogpaw watched as her guard padded away from the nursery entrance, presumably to make dirt. Seizing her chance, she crept forward, making sure to keep her belly low to the ground. Her mentor had shown her this crouch on the first day of training. _Whitestream_. They had barely gotten to spend any time together, but right now, Fogpaw was grateful for the time they had.

She approached the clearing. Rootfur was gone, though for how long, she wasn't sure. There were no other cats in sight, and even if a warrior did pop his or her head of the den, there was no way they would see her through the thick curtain of snow and darkness. Cautiously, she pulled herself into the clearing and made her way toward the camp's exit.

So far, so good. No one stopped her as she silently padded through the camp. Except for the faint sounds of breathing coming from the dens, she could have sworn the place was abandoned. The stench of darkness was stronger in the centre of the clearing, and she barely stopped herself from gagging as it hit her.

Finally, after her painfully slow journey, Fogpaw reached the path out of camp. Letting out a sigh, she began to ascend.

"Where are you going?"

The she-cat nearly jumped out of her skin. She whipped around to see Stripedpaw staring at her, his golden eyes wide. The tom must have been sitting there for awhile. "I couldn't sleep," he told her, almost sheepishly. "I never can. But you can't leave."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you going to stop me?" Fogpaw challenged.

Stripedpaw opened his mouth and then closed it again. "Listen..."

"No," she mewed. "I'm done listening. I'm getting out of here. Come with me if you want, or get out of my way."

There was a long moment of silence. Fogpaw held her breath, praying to StarClan that the skinny tom wouldn't raise the alarm. His golden eyes met hers and she stared back, unwavering. The only sound was the blood pumping through her, the thud of her heartbeat echoing through her bones.

"Go straight once you leave camp," said Stripedpaw, at last. "Follow the ridge. It will bring you to the lake, and you can follow the shore from there. It isn't the shortest route, but it'll keep you safe from the snow."

Fogpaw blinked in appreciation. "Thanks," she said, rather awkwardly. The she-cat turned to leave, conscious of Stripedpaw's eyes on her back. Fighting the feeling of unease rising within her, she took off into the night.

Leaving the camp, Fogpaw was immediately overwhelmed by the wind and the cold. Snow whipped at her pelt and all she could do was tuck her head in and move on. She was colder than she had ever been in her life. All she could think about was making her way back to RiverClan. It would be warm there. Warm, and safe. _Rainpaw. Reedthroat. Morningstep. Whitestream. Toadstar._ Her list of names gave her the strength to carry on.

Trudging through the huge drifts of snow, Fogpaw made her way across the moor. Eventually, she found the ridge that Stripedpaw had mentioned. Following it, she forced herself to keep moving. The ridge blocked a portion of the wind, and Fogpaw found that the sky in front of her had cleared. The snow was beginning to lessen. Casting a glance up at the stars, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her warrior ancestors really were watching over her.

She began to wonder what she would say when she returned. There were no words to describe the soul-numbing torture that had rocked her to her core. The she-cat was both weaker and stronger as a result. Her body ached and burned, but her mind and her heart continued to push her forward. _Thank you, StarClan_. She was so close now.

The ground underneath her feet began to rise and Fogpaw pulled herself up the slope. Once at the top, the view took her breath away. In front of her lay the lake, still and black as the night. Fogpaw felt her chest clench and she began to tremble, choked up by the sight. She hadn't seen the lake for so long. Her body ached to bathe in it just as she had when she was a kit. The water was always so cold, so refreshing, so _good_. It was cleansing.

How she longed to be clean.

Fogpaw began to make her way down toward the lake, excitement pounding through her. But she hadn't gotten very far before the harsh stench of the darkness reached her. Suddenly afraid, Fogpaw froze, hoping that if she stayed still, she wouldn't be noticed. As she waited, the WindClan scent drew nearer.

_No._ This couldn't be happening. Fogpaw was so close, she was _so _close. The she-cat looked around, hoping that by some miracle she was close to the ThunderClan border and could seek refuge there. But she was directly in the middle of WindClan territory, and as she stared out into the moor, she saw three dark shapes sprinting toward her.

_WindClan_.

Fogpaw had no choice. She ran.

The she-cat threw herself forward, desperately plunging through the snowdrifts, trying to make it to the lake. She didn't know how it would help, only that the water would made her feel safe. From behind her, there was an angry cry. They had noticed her frantic sprint.

Fogpaw kept her eyes focused on the lake. She was almost there now. She could make it before the WindClan cats did. Maybe they would be too scared to walk on the ice. She could go out on the lake and leave them far behind; it wasn't a very good plan, but it was the only one she had. Gritting her teeth, Fogpaw made a final, desperate push to reach the shore, fighting through the ache in her muscles. Her chest was tightening and then she was no longer able to propel herself forward, barely clearing the next snowdrift. The exhaustion tugged at her. All she wanted to do was stop.

But she couldn't stop.

The ice was right in front of her – and then it wasn't. Thornfur, the deputy, stood in front of her, staring her down. Fogpaw had already thrown herself forward – it was too late to stop. The grey she-cat ducked and slid right under the tom's legs. The deputy must have been taken by surprise, for he let out an angry cry and spun around.

Fogpaw groaned. She had come to full stop and was lying on the ice, her head spinning. The last vestiges of the adrenaline rush stirred within her, and the she-cat pulled herself to her feet, staring back at the shoreline. Thornfur was calmly making his way toward her, his eyes as cold as ice. Cloudstorm and Frostpool followed him, their bodies tense and ready to spring.

"Come here," commanded Thornfur, obviously annoyed. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

He took another step forward and, for the first time, Fogpaw realized how huge the ginger tom really was. She shrank away from him, taking a skittish step backward. The ice underneath her paws groaned slightly. Fogpaw froze, more frightened by the noise than she would admit. _Ice always sounds like that_, she told herself, reciting her mentor's words, _it doesn't mean that it's going to break_.

"Trust me, you don't want to make Thornfur angrier than he already is," said Frostpool, in her lilting voice. It was so soft, so tender, so _dangerous_ that it send shivers down Fogpaw's spine. "Just come with us and I won't let him hurt you."

Fogpaw glanced back and forth between the WindClan warriors. How had they found her? Had Rootfur or another cat seen her escape? Immediately, her mind shot back to Stripedpaw. It couldn't have been him – could it?

Cloudstorm answered her unspoken question. "It was your little friend Stripedpaw who ratted you out – I guess you couldn't trust him after all, huh? Poor little Fogpaw, so _betrayed_."

So that was it. This whole time, Stripedpaw had just been a ploy to gain her trust. Fogpaw cursed internally. It was obvious; he had even told her to take the long route, so that the patrol could catch up. She had let herself be played. Of course they would offer her a friend. Of course they would give her hope, just so they could take it away. They wanted to break her. Their goal had never changed, this whole time. Fogpaw wondered if the whole thing had been orchestrated – moving her den, having Rootfur slip away. It didn't matter. The end result was the same.

Fogpaw took another step back. "Stay away from me," she said, trying to sound confident.

Thornfur moved closer, followed by Frostpool. The she-cat's eyes glittered with malice, keen and intelligent. It was the darkness that Fogpaw was seeing as Frostpool met her gaze. It was pure evil.

The RiverClan she-cat took another step backward and felt the ice groan again, louder than before. Fogpaw froze, hardly daring to breathe. The ice was still. Then, feeling more confident, she took one more step backward.

The ice cracked.

She barely had time to register that before Thornfur bounded toward her. The ice cracked again, louder, and gave way under their combined weight. Suddenly there was nothing but air underneath Fogpaw's paws, and she fell into the icy cold water.

There was only darkness. She cracked her eyes open and saw a glimmer of light as it filtered through the icy water. Everything was so _cold_. The frigidness seeped into her fur, her bones, her _heart_, turning everything to ice. Fogpaw stayed there a moment, suspended in the lake, hardly daring to move. All she wanted to do was sleep, to let this darkness overtake her.

In front of her, Thornfur floated past. The tom was heavier than she was, and the water was pulling him down with fierce strength. His eyes were wide open, vacant, as if whatever intelligence had been controlling him had slithered away, leaving the shell of his body to die.

Then reality set in, along with the panic. She let out a muffled scream, but only bubbles rose to the surface. The she-cat kicked her legs, trying to push herself up to the surface. But the water was heavy and pulling her down. It wrapped around her legs and tugged and for a second she wondered if it would be easier to just let the lake take her.

Her lungs began to scream. Fogpaw ached to take a breath, but doing so would mean letting in the water and the cold and the darkness. The sheer pain began to overwhelm her. Her eyes fluttered back into her head.

Darkness.

She could hear voices from miles away. "Grab her, quick!"

Something grasped on to the scruff of her neck. Jaws clenched down on the skin.

"Got her." A different voice. Muffled.

"Pull!"

Fogpaw's lungs felt like they would burst. She fought the desire to open her mouth, fought her own body as it worked against her, forced herself to stay calm. _Don't breathe_, she told herself. _Just don't breathe_.

Then the cold and the darkness were too much, and a terrible stillness overtook her. The sight of Thornfur's empty gaze flashed on the back of her eyelids.

Fogpaw went limp.

**XX XX XX**

**A/N**: This chapter went very differently than how I had originally planned, and I couldn't be happier! (The original ending simply had her return to WindClan camp, captured – this alternate ending is going to take us on a different, and much more exciting, path!) It's a little shorter than I had hoped, but eh, it just means we'll have longer ones later.

I know I said we would see Sootclaw this chapter; I guess I lied. That said, we're finally going back to Dawnpaw next chapter. She's been travelling through the Dark Forest for almost a moon now, and she's almost at the end of her journey – StarClan. That said, things might not go as expected. Then Kitetail again, and I promise we'll work some Grainstar in – we haven't even seen how RiverClan has reacted to him!

I'm going to try and get another update within the next week (depending on how late I can force myself to stay up and work!). That said, school is ruling my life at the moment. I have three midterms next week – Calculus, Biology, and Astronomy, all of the science-y stuff. I'll be studying all weekend but I'll try to get the time to write.

Anyway, time for some review replies!

**allygirl56:** Hey, it's good to see you again! I agree, the first one moved at a better pace (my bad!) but I promise this one will pick up :) As for Dawnpaw and Shredtail – I considered it for a little bit, but it just seemed weird. He's very much a mentor figure for her, a guide, and I didn't want to push the limits of reality by giving her a bajillion love interests – not every tom is going to fall for her, after all. :)

**Coqui's Song: **Fifty bucks for a Thickfur plushie! Just kidding, I don't have one (but if I did, I would definitely keep it!) History does repeat itself, it's awesome that you picked that up! Thanks for reviewing!

**Honeycloud of RiverClan:** ...forever. Nah, just kidding! But she's not coming out of it soon, sorry!

**Aspen:** Aw, thanks for the great review! I've seen a couple of episodes of Avatar, and I mean to watch the whole thing at some point! As for the age difference, Thickfur is twenty-five moons older than Dawnpaw – it's a lot now, but won't be significant once she's older.

**FawnHasAnArmyOfEvilPuppies:** You're welcome, haha. Thanks for reviewing!

**Senora Sapphire:** Haha, thanks! Yeah, Thickfur is very confused about his feelings, poor guy.

**iDarkKitteh: **Hey there, welcome! I'm glad you feel that way about Thickfur – that's exactly what I was going for, so I'm glad that it worked. Yeah, the kits are really cute. Thanks for the review :)

I suppose, now that there's officially only sixteen chapters left to write in _Knight of the Shadows_ (which really doesn't seem like that many, actually, so here goes nothing), I can reveal the title of the next book in the trilogy, which I've decided, at least for now, to name the Endgame trilogy. The next book will, drumroll please, be called _Queen of the Thunder_. Anyway, I hope to finish _KotS _by May!

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	24. Chapter Twenty-Two

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO  
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Dawnpaw slept well that night, her best sleep in longer than she could remember. There was a warmth pressed against her side, burrowing into her and warming her brittle bones. It comforted her and held her and kept all of the bad dreams away. It was still there when she woke, echoing through her body. Dawnpaw revelled in the feeling of heat, unusual here in this cold, dark forest. She wasn't sure what had caused it, only that she hoped it would never go away. She tried to picture it's source and caught only a flash of grey. Sootclaw, perhaps. The tom might have found a way to reach her, or at least have tried.

The feeling reminded her of the nights of her early apprenticeship, when she and Elmheart, then Elmpaw, had slept side-by-side in the den. But Elmheart had become a warrior and revealed his crush on her and it had ruined everything. Dawnpaw wanted to have him back, to be his best friend once more, but those days were long gone. She saw it whenever he looked at her, saw the anger and betrayal in his eyes. _You were supposed to love me back, _said those eyes. Dawnpaw longed for their friendship, yet she know she had already replaced him: Sootclaw was her best friend now, and she missed the ShadowClan warrior desperately.

Besides, the nights spent beside Elmheart were nights long gone. Dawnpaw had been different back then: small, fragile, weak. She hadn't seen it until coming down here. She hadn't realized how easy her life had been up there, where the sun permeated every corner of the forest and the birdsong filled the air. Her life had been so simple – except for Branchpaw.

Dawnpaw winced. No. She wouldn't think about it. _I'll think about it later_, she promised herself, just like she always did. The ginger apprentice was avoiding going over the events of that day. She remembered them in bits and pieces – it was a day she would never forget – but remembering it all at once was too difficult. _Branchpaw..._ Her brother. It had been moons since his death, and sometimes Dawnpaw forgot what it had been like to have him around. Guilt seeped through her. She couldn't forget.

When she crawled out her makeshift den, Dawnpaw immediately sensed something different about the woods. The air was warmer here, and drier. There was no moisture crawling on her pelt and making her skin itch. It was also slightly brighter, and when she looked up, the greyness at the top of the sky was beginning to rust.

She heard Shredtail's pawsteps behind her and whipped around. "We're close," Dawnpaw mewed, certain.

The tabby tom nodded. "We'll be there before night falls."

Excitement coursed through Dawnpaw's veins. She was almost home. Her brutal journey was its end. In less than a day, she would once again be sharing tongues with Kitetail or training with Thickfur or – she could hardly contain her joy – talking with Sootclaw. Her heart ached to contact the ShadowClan warrior, but her last attempt at contacting him had taken so much out of her that she didn't have the strength to do it again.

"I... I can't really believe it," Dawnpaw admitted softly. "I've been here so long – a moon. Going back home seems like a dream."

"I know," said Shredtail, and there was an odd gentleness to his voice that gave Dawnpaw pause.

The ginger she-cat took a moment to drink in her surroundings. The air was soft on her fur, the ground warm and lush with grass underneath her paws. Scenting the air, she could taste the rich scents of moss and dirt. The wind rustled gently through the bushes and she thought she heard the faint noise of crickets chirping. In front of them stretched a dense birch forest, leaves green and bright, and with only a hint of the deadening fog.

"It's so beautiful here," she murmured.

Shredtail nodded. "It makes my fur prickle."

"You don't like it?" asked Dawnpaw.

The tabby smiled grimly. "I love it here, Dawnpaw. I wish I could stay here all the time. But I can't. It _hurts_, physically, to be here, for any cat of the Dark Forest. This isn't our place. It's StarClan's worse torture – we can come here, and we can see this beauty, but we cannot stay here for long. It's an eternity of temptation."

"Wait." She blinked. "It'll hurt you and Worm if you come with me?"

He chuckled, and the sound was bleak. "Don't worry about us. We knew the risks when we decided to deliver you."

"Okay..." Dawnpaw trailed off, a mixture of emotions battling in her chest. Another question flashed in her mind, something she had been wondered for while but had never remembered to ask. "Shredtail?"

"Another one?" He sighed. "Yes?"

"Why did it take so long?" she asked. "To go through the forest, I mean. We've been travelling for over a moon now. The forest can't possibly be that big, even with the layers, or whatever you called him."

Shredtail nodded in understanding. "The Dark Forest is hard to navigate," he mewed. "The longer you're here, the more experience you become at finding your way. I could travel to StarClan in a couple of days. Worm can move at a speed like that too. But you, you don't know what you're doing. You can't leap over the layers. Sometimes you fall through them."

"So I slowed you down?" she asked.

He narrowed his eyes. "_Dawnpaw_. The reason we came here was to deliver you. We knew all of this. Like I said, we were familiar with the risks and the...complications. Don't bother with apologies." His voice was tight.

Dawnpaw backed off. There was no real anger in his eyes, but she was still wary of setting off a spark that would wake the beast. Instead, she turned to the centre of their makeshift camp, where Worm had deposited a scrawny starling, the sole prize of his midnight hunt.

"Eat up," said Worm, materializing out of the forest behind her. Dawnpaw narrowed her eyes, now annoyed by his appearances instead of scared.

Shredtail nodded. "You need your strength. There's something we need to show you."

Dawnpaw furrowed her brow in confusion. The ginger she-cat picked up the starling in her jaws, wincing at the ashy taste. The food here was nothing more than a shadow of its real self, and yet it sustained her. It was all she had. She chewed quickly, conscious of Shredtail's eyes on her.

"Now?" Dawnpaw asked, finishing her meal. "We're almost there, though?"

His eyes met hers. "Dawnpaw, we can't follow you in there. What we're going to show you – it's now or never."

_Right_. Dawnpaw had always known that Shredtail and Worm wouldn't be able to go to StarClan with her. She had always counted that as a blessing, that she would be free from these dangerous cats. But Shredtail had become a mentor to her, almost a friend, and sometimes she forgot that he was evil, cursed to live in the Dark Forest forever.

"What?" she asked, reluctant. She didn't know what they were going to show her, but she hoped it didn't take up too much time. Dawnpaw wanted to be at the StarClan border as fast as physically possible. The image of Sootclaw flashed in her mind. She would visit him the first chance she got. She needed to see him again.

"Do you remember what I told you, about your mind link with Sootclaw?" Shredtail's voice was impassive. Dawnpaw met his gaze, wondering what this could be leading toward.

"Yeah," she mewed. "You said StarClan had given us pieces of each other, that part of me was in his mind and part of him was in mine."

He nodded. "There's more than that. When you went to...find Sootclaw, I guess you could say, what did you experience?"

Dawnpaw didn't need to pause and think. The experience was burned into her mind, scalded against the back of her eyelids. "There was an emptiness...it was terrible. Sootclaw's mind was like a light, waiting on the other side."

Shredtail nodded. "Now, what if I told you that that emptiness did not just exist between you and Sootclaw, but that it existed between every cat. Sootclaw's mind isn't the other side – it's just one of many 'lights' floating in the darkness. When StarClan merged your mind with Sootclaw's, they gave you the power to access the minds of all cats, though they didn't realize it. It's far more difficult than finding Sootclaw's, but it can be done."

_No_. Dawnpaw didn't want to believe it, didn't want to believe the implications, but it made sense. She remembered the day of Branchpaw's death, when she had reached out and accidentally touched the frantic broiling of his mind, the rush of anger that had recoiled against her.

"I know it's hard to believe." Shredtail's voice was oddly gentle and his eyes held a hint of concern. "It's very difficult to control, only coming out in times of trauma or extreme need."

"I know," said Dawnpaw, quietly, the words barely escaping her muzzle. She swallowed heavily and repeated herself, louder this time. "I know."

Shredtail looked surprised, as did Worm, who was circling behind her. "How?" asked the pale tabby.

Dawnpaw shook her head. She had always thought that moment had been in her imagination, but if it was real...what did this mean for her? What did it mean for Sootclaw, or for their battle against the Dark Forest? The she-cat trembled. "Why are you telling me this?"

"StarClan gave you an incredible power," said Shredtail, voice even. "If you want to win the battle against the Dark Forest, you have to learn how to harness it."

She nodded. "And Sootclaw, does he have this power too?"

"You bet," said Worm, slinking around so he stood in front of her. "Now it's time for you to practice."

"Practice?" Dawnpaw was startled. They couldn't mean...could they? There was no way she would able to find their minds in the emptiness outside her mind.

Shredtail nodded. "Find me."

"How?" asked the ginger she-cat. "Where do I start?"

"Do it like you did with Sootclaw," the tabby instructed. "Take the plunge."

Dawnpaw shut her eyes. They were crazy, that was it. Shredtail and Worm were crazy. There was no way she was going to be able to find them. It had been difficult enough with Sootclaw. Squeezing her eyes even more tightly closed, she brought herself to the edge of her mind, where the silvery filaments, tender and raw, waved against the darkness. Instead of leaping into the emptiness, she visualized a scene. Dawnpaw was back in ThunderClan territory, standing over the lake.

_This is my mind_, she thought. Everything within the borders belonged to her. The lake, glittering below, represented the emptiness. Conjuring up an image of Shredtail, she sent him leaping into the lake, and watched the exact spot where he plunged below the water. Then, taking a deep breath, Dawnpaw leapt in after him.

The cold was overwhelming. Her flesh melded into her frozen bones. There was only blue in front of her eyes. Dawnpaw pressed on, swimming down toward the bottom, unsure of what she would find but certain that she needed to go there. Her lungs ached and blackness began to obscured her vision. She struggled for energy, for a final kick from her hind legs.

She pushed, felt the water flow by her face, and then everything was black.

.

Dawnpaw opened her eyes and found herself back in the Dark Forest. Everything looked familiar, and yet there was something oddly different. She drank in the air and coughed at the mustiness. It was older here, the fog thicker. Looking around, the she-cat saw no sign of either Shredtail or Worm.

"Hello?" she called out, before kicking herself. She didn't want to draw any unwanted attention. But where were her friends, if she could even call them that? Dawnpaw scented the air once more, and this time she caught a whiff of a familiar scent. _Shredtail_.

Swallowing heavily, Dawnpaw followed the scent, trying to fight the unease rising in her gut. She scented the air against, affirming that Shredtail was indeed nearby, and began to follow his scent. Noises came into focus, ringing in her ears, heated conversation and the snarls of cats fighting. Unease was prickling in her heart and she tried to keep herself calm. _Take deep breaths, Dawnpaw. Deep breaths_. There was something lighter about the forest; there was no terror lurking in the corners of her eyes, no eyeless warriors spying on her, their fur matted with blood.

She kept to the bushes as she walked, eventually coming upon a large clearing where two cats were in the middle of sparring. Dawnpaw hesitated, not wanting to draw attention to herself, only to nearly jump out of her skin when she realized there was a cat right next to her. He was a huge light brown tabby, but his face was young, and to her surprise, he didn't acknowledge her. In fact, Dawnpaw wondered if he could even see her? Was she invisible? Or was she still in Shredtail's mind, stumbling through an old memory?

The ginger she-cat turned her attention back to the cats in the clearing, who had stopped fighting, and her heart lurched as she recognized them as Shredtail and Thistleclaw. "That was pathetic, Thistleclaw," snarled the scarred brown tabby, eyes narrowed. "Do it again!"

Thistleclaw complied, launching himself at Shredtail, but the older warrior moved aside easily. Rage filled his eyes and he threw himself at Thistleclaw, knocking the tom down against the hard ground and holding him there, battering his face with a serious of vicious blows, his claws unsheathed. Thistleclaw cried out as blood sprayed across his face, staining his fur. Eventually Shredtail stepped back, allowing his apprentice to stagger wearily to his paws.

"My time is coming," said Thistleclaw through gritted teeth. Blood dripped into his eyes and Dawnpaw saw him try hard not to wince.

Shredtail let out a caustic chuckle. "Are you sure Sunstar won't soften and choose Bluefur as deputy instead?" he asked with a sneer.

Thistleclaw tensed. "Of course," he said, defensively. A sneer crept into his voice. "She's too busy grieving over Snowfur."

"Grief makes you strong," said Shredtail, and there was a slight hint of wisdom in his angry voice, an air of authority that gave him power over Thistleclaw. "What about you? Are you grieving for her?"

But Thistleclaw had had enough talking, and he threw himself at Shredtail once more. The two cats resumed their fighting, and Dawnpaw could only stagger back in incredulity. Shredtail had been Thistleclaw's mentor; Thistleclaw, the ultimate evil, the cat who was organizing the Dark Forest against the Clans... he had been trained by Shredtail. Horror ran through her and she felt her legs begin to buckle. Darkness entered the edges of her vision, and the forest around her went fuzzy. The she-cat's eyes rolled up to the back of her head and then she dropped, falling into darkness.

.

When she woke up, the first thing she saw was Shredtail's face looming over her. Dawnpaw felt her blood run cold and she tried to scramble away, but she was lying on the ground and her limbs were slow to respond to her mind's frantic call. She wanted to scream, but her throat was tight, and all she could do was stare at him in horror until the panic subsided.

Shredtail looked different too, weary, angry, even broken. Violated might have been the correct word. There was undisguised fury in his eyes when he looked at her, the lines of his face taut, but there was no fire in his anger, merely ice. He was trembling slightly, and for the first time, the huge brown tabby seemed to be at a loss for words. Behind him, Worm watched, posture anxious and submissive. He knew that something was wrong but the last thing he wanted to do was get involved.

"What did you do?" asked Shredtail, voice shaking with disbelief and anger.

This time, Dawnpaw managed to scramble away. Her muscles were tense and she knew she must have looked defensive as she stared him down. "I only did what you said, I found your mind."

"You went _in_ it," said Shredtail, and she realized just how violated he must feel; Dawnpaw had gone in too far, just as she had to Sootpaw that one time, when she had assumed control of his mind for a few brief seconds. She couldn't imagine allowing someone such access to her thoughts. The she-cat felt slightly guilty, but that passed as the fear took over her once again.

"You were Thistleclaw's mentor," she said, trying to be brave.

He searched her eyes with his own. "I was."

"You didn't tell me," mewed Dawnpaw as she drew a shaky breath.

Shredtail shrugged. "It wasn't important."

"It is important," she persisted, shaking her head. Dawnpaw felt betrayed, disgusted, and of course, afraid for her safety. Shredtail was one of the most dangerous cats in the whole forest, and he had lulled her into trusting him. Dawnpaw had had no other choice, it was true, but the ginger she-cat still felt as though he had taken advantage of her. She had tried to be strong, had though she was growing strong, but she had been so _naive_. "You're important here, Shredtail. They all listen to you and respect you. You're not just a bad cat, you're one of the worst..."

His face was impassive, and she realized that was even worse than anger. "Yes," he said at last. "But I told you from the start, I was your only hope. I am helping you, Dawnpaw."

"Not anymore," she said, and now the fear was being replaced by a righteous anger. "I'm going to StarClan on my own." Dawnpaw knew where it was, could feel the pull and the light as it tugged at her core.

Shredtail looked as though he wanted so desperately to say something, and they stood like that for awhile, their eyes locked, but eventually he turned and walked away. "Come on, Worm, let's go." Dawnpaw watched him, finding herself surprised by this. After everything Shredtail had done for her, was he really going to walk away so easily? Part of her wanted to call him back, but she had made up her mind. All the ginger she-cat could do was watch as he and Worm vanished into the bushes. With that, she turned herself toward StarClan, took a deep breath, and began to walk.

.

She made it just as the sun was beginning to set. Dawnpaw knew instinctively that she had reached the border, though she didn't know how to explain it. There were no huge signs or landmark, no line drawn into the ground. There was just darkness and then there was light, fog and then a hazy, warm mist. Her paws carried her to the edge, but then something stopped him, and she found she couldn't walk any further. Dawnpaw sat down, staring out at the land in front of her – at _StarClan!_ – and prayed that someone would show up. It was beautiful over there, filled with tall trees and a blue sky and red flowers waving in the breeze. She caught glimpses of it, but fog rolled over the border, obscuring her vision, and she was left with only a taste of StarClan, left desperately wanting to cross.

But there was no one there to help her.

Dawnpaw let out a sigh and looked down at her paws.

"Hello." The voice was loud and she looked up, startled, to see a cat sitting right in front of her where just before there had been no one. He was a young tom, perhaps even a kit, with light brown fur and a knowing smile on his face. "Do you remember me?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry."

The tom shrugged. "That's alright. I'm Sparrowkit."

Memories came back to Dawnpaw, memories of Branchpaw and his focused grey eyes, doing his work, claiming that something else had taken over him. Before she could ask Sparrowkit about it, she was aware of two other cats padding toward them from the StarClan side of the border. The first was all too familiar. Her heart raced.

_Branchpaw._

The second looked familiar as well, and she recognized the she-cat as the one that had guided Branchpaw up to StarClan after his death. The she-cat was a beautiful tortoiseshell in colour, though an ugly scar ran across her throat, and Dawnpaw had to work to tear her eyes away. She met Branchpaw's grey gaze and felt her heart thud against her ribs. Her brother was here, in StarClan, _safe_. Oh, she had missed him so much. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. All Dawnpaw wanted to do was run to him, but she _couldn't_, and so she cursed the border between them.

"Dawnpaw," he mewed, grey eyes soft, and there was a pain in his gaze that tore at her. The tabby pressed himself against the she-cat beside him, obviously looking for stability. "You're here."

"I – I'm..." The words felt heavy in her mouth. "I'm so sorry, Branchpaw."

He tilted his head. "Don't be sorry," he mewed. "You saved me. I've been watching over you ever since, at least until the Dark Forest took you."

Relief flooded her. "So you know, then?" Dawnpaw asked eagerly. "StarClan knows what happened to me? You can help?"

Branchpaw's gaze flickered and filled Dawnpaw with unease. His face was covered in sadness and he looked down as the next words escape his mouth. They sounded tortured, bruised. "Not exactly."

The she-cat beside him stepped forward, looking at Dawnpaw with sorrow in her eyes. "You remember the rule, that for every action there is an opposite reaction?" she asked. When Dawnpaw nodded, she continued. "You cannot return to the world above until another cat is brought down here."

"So I have to wait for a cat to die?" Dawnpaw echoed. Those words had shaken her. All along, she had expected StarClan to have some sort of miracle solution to her problem, to fix it for her, to send her back to ThunderClan where she could see Thickfur and Kitetail once more.

"You have to wait for a cat to come down to the Dark Forest, and you must be ready when it happens," she mewed. "No other cat can do this, but you're not dead yet. You still have the power to return, if the moment is right."

Dawnpaw's mouth had dried. "Can I at least come into StarClan... while... while I wait?"

Branchpaw and the she-cat exchanged glances. Her brother shuffled his paws, looking unsure. "Blossompaw," he mewed. "Can you explain it?"

The tortoiseshell she-cat – Blossompaw – nodded. "The fabric between StarClan and the Dark Forest is weak. Things are starting to come apart. Things that shouldn't happen... they've already started. Cats caught in the in-between are starting to wake. Bringing you from the Dark Forest to StarClan is not a risk we are willing to take. No cat has crossed that line in countless moons. I'm sorry."

Dawnpaw absorbed the meaning of her words, that she would have to wait here, alone, without even the comfort of her brother's touch. She looked at him with wide eyes, so obviously distraught and broken, and he stared back, the weight of the world on his shoulders. She didn't know what to do. She just didn't know what to do.

Branchpaw turned. "Blossompaw, can you give us a moment?"

The she-cat nodded and padded off, gesturing for Sparrowkit to follow her. Dawnpaw watched them go before turning back to Branchpaw. Now that it was just the two of them, there was so much she wanted to say. Unfortunately, nothing came out but a weak chuckle. "So, are you two...?" It was a half-hearted joke. Her ability to form coherent thoughts was failing her.

Branchpaw didn't laugh. He looked at her with a serious expression on his face, something pained in his eyes. "I'm so sorry," the tom mewed. "I didn't want it to be like this. When I learned about what happened to you, I just couldn't believe it."

Dawnpaw ducked her head. "I know. It's not your fault."

When she looked back up, Branchpaw was staring at her with a strange warmth. "I'm so proud of you," he mewed. "You have no idea. What you did – you saved me, you saved ThunderClan. And now, here you are, desperate to save yourself."

"I love you," she blurted out, unable to contain herself, his words giving her new confidence. "I miss you every day but it hurts so much to think about that I spend all my time trying to block it out and... and... and you're my brother and you're _gone_."

All she wanted to do was bury herself in his fur, but he was so far away, and Dawnpaw was left with a feeling of emptiness that nothing could seal. She should be happy, to see him again, and she was, but he was so far away and this was as close as they would ever get. Branchpaw smiled at her, not a sad smile, but one of understanding. "I know. But I'm happy here. I'm finally home."

_Home_.

"I just want to go home," said Dawnpaw, with a sob, and then the emotions were too much for her. She needed to go, needed to find Shredtail and Worm and figure out her next move – she couldn't just wait – but her legs were rooted to the ground. She swallowed heavily. "Branchpaw? Will you sit with me awhile?"

Their gazes locked once more and he nodded and all she wanted to do was lose herself in those grey eyes. "Of course."

Maybe she wasn't as strong as she had previously thought. Maybe she still had a long way to go. But she had made it this far, and it was a start.

**XX XX XX**

**A/N:** To those of you reading this right now: wow, thanks. I don't deserve your dedication to this story, but I am grateful for it. I've had this chapter half-written for much too long and I decided to finish it. You know how I'm always saying "I promise to finish, no matter what" and so on? I had to sound cheesy, but it's true. I've written the ending to the trilogy about three times in my head and I want to get there no matter what. It might be a very long time. Who knows.

Next chapter is Kitetail and a bit of Grain, as well, since it's been awhile since we've checked in with him. His segments are fairly sparse, but that's because his plotline wraps up in the next book instead of this one. A lot is happening in this middle section and we'll only start to see the consequences later on...

I won't do review replies this chapter since it has been basically a million years, but if I've left questions of yours unanswered, please feel free to let me know and I'll try to answer them at the end of next chapter! Speaking of which, my plan tonight is to drink way too much coffee and stay up writing, so hopefully I'll get something done for once.

Haha, remember when I said I wanted to finish by May? Oh boy, that was pretty optimistic.

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	25. Chapter Twenty-Three

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE  
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The snowstorm had subsided and ThunderClan had managed to dig out their dens more efficiently than Kitetail would have thought possible. The brown tabby returned to his den as soon as he was able, returning the herbs he had grabbed at the last moment before the snow had hit. It was a beautiful day, the sky clear and the air warm, and it helped put the medicine cat at ease after last night's events. While Snowfoot's death weighed heavily upon the young tom, he was relieved that no one else had been hurt.

Dawnpaw lay in the corner of his den, still sleeping soundly in her moss nest. While Kitetail's relationship with Thickfur was strained, he wouldn't deny that the grey tabby had done the young she-cat a service by remaining with her. It had been brave of Thickfur to go after her in the first place, and once again Kitetail got the impression that the grey tabby cared about his apprentice more than he was willing to let on.

Padding over to her, Kitetail did a quick inspection. Her breathing, while slow and shallow, hadn't worsened over the night. And while she was skinnier than before she had fallen into the coma, she did not appear to malnourished – something was keeping her sustained, whatever it was. It was a puzzle, and Kitetail didn't have the first clue in solving it. Yet she didn't appear to be in any immediate danger, and after the tom dribbled some water down her throat, he padded back out into the clearing.

Cats were still at work digging out the dens. He saw Beechclaw and Galepaw working on the elder's den, while Foxwhisker stood idly by, weariness etched on his lined face. Meanwhile, Cherrytail and Owlfeather attended to the nursery, fixing the bracken weave which made up the roof. Mousepaw ran errands for them while Auburnfur supervised, keeping her kits away from the bulk of the activity.

The main attraction, however, was the contingent of cats who were attempting to deal with the fallen tree. There were eight of them: Slatestar, Thickfur, Beck, Larchstripe, Nettleclaw, Grasscloud, and Elmheart, each with a branch in their mouth. Their muscles strained underneath their pelts as they pushed forward, dragging the tree along with them. Luckily, it was lacking in girth, and they were able to move it, carrying it up and out of the quarry with excruciating slowness. Larkflight watched from above, calling out directions, while Alder spotted them from below, ready in case anyone should slip.

Kitetail padded up beside him. "I'm impressed," he mewed.

"Me too," said Alder, a hint of admiration in his voice. "Your warriors are dedicated."

"Is there where you give me a speech about how your city cats could have done a better job?" Kitetail's comment was tongue-in-cheek, but there was a hint of seriousness in it as he cast Alder a sideways glance.

The slender tabby let out a chuckle, but it sounded empty. "No," he replied, shaking his head. "We're from different worlds and it isn't possible to compare them."

It was a good answer. Kitetail turned to look at the tom once more, this time giving his full attention. "Do you miss it?" he asked. "The city?"

"Of course," said Alder, seeming surprised that Kitetail would even ask such a question. "But it's changed now. I miss how it used to be."

Kitetail nodded. He found it strange that the two of them had become almost friends, especially after their initial conflict. The tom remembered how vehemently opposed Thickfur had been to Alder; a much deeper conflict had begun that day, and now Kitetail seemed to have picked his side. He wondered if that was what had put Thickfur on edge around him, even more than the fact that he had accused Thickfur of being a traitor. Dawnpaw's safety was at stake, and in Thickfur's eyes, Kitetail had sided with the cat most likely to bring her danger.

The brown tabby looked up, eyes falling upon the heavy muscles of Thickfur's back. He would have to apologize to him, perhaps restart their relationship. Dawnpaw needed all the support she could get, after all.

"What's on your mind?" asked Alder, whose eyes were strangely perceptive. Kitetail always felt vulnerable underneath their scrutiny.

He didn't want to lie. "You and Thickfur. He's right, you know. You put Dawnpaw in danger."

"What about you?" asked Alder. "Do you hold that against me?"

Kitetail watched as the group of cats passed over the top of the quarry, dragging the tree out of sight. "I think you put her in danger when you came here, but I don't believe in carrying a grudge over a mistake." But Alder's comment had irked him; the tom needed to take responsibility for his actions, and while he seemed to be making baby steps, it wasn't enough to fully satisfy the medicine cat. "The two of you should talk," he added, and turned away.

He padded over to the trail and watched as the cats returned, clearly exhausted from their efforts. Slatestar led them back down, followed by Nettleclaw on one side, and to Kitetail's surprise, Beck on the other. They entered the camp silently, and Kitetail watched them without a sound. Thickfur looked up as he passed Kitetail, and their eyes met. The grey tabby's gaze hardened, and he looked away.

"Thickfur, wait," mewed Kitetail, moving to catch up with him.

The warrior looked surprised and somewhat irritated. "What is it?"

Kitetail took a deep breath. "What you did for Dawnpaw – "

" – Is what I would have done for any member of ThunderClan," said Thickfur, finishing the sentence on his behalf. "I care about my Clan, you know." The unspoken implication was there: _despite what you may believe_.

"Still," said Kitetail, desperate for a way to mend the rift between them.

"Look, Kitetail, this may surprise you, but my priority has always been the well-being of my Clan and Clanmates. Dawnpaw is one of them. The fact that she may hate me has no bearing on my responsibility as her mentor." Thickfur's voice was cool, his amber eyes hard.

"She never said that," Kitetail blurted out, feeling his face flush red underneath his fur. "I made it up to hurt you."

There was a very long silence. Thickfur had stopped in his tracks. He held Kitetail's gaze, cold and unblinking, and Kitetail felt himself begin to tremble as he wondered what the grey warrior would say next. The tom's face was stricken and he looked as though he was searching for the right words.

But before Thickfur could say anything, Nettleclaw let out a loud, rasping, gut-wrenching cough that caught Kitetail's full attention.

Forgetting about Thickfur, he ran over to the ginger deputy, heart in his throat. He knew what that cough was, and Nettleclaw did too. It was something that Kitetail hadn't dared to think about and had hoped wouldn't occur this leafbare – or any leafbare. But it was a fact of life, and now here it was, right in front of him.

_Greencough._

Nettleclaw coughed again, a deep, dry noise that sounded as though he was trying to heave his lungs out of his mouth. The sound grated on Kitetail's ears, and he found his legs rooted to the ground, frozen in place.

"Kitetail." The deputy's voice snapped him out of his trance. He looked up, eyes wide and afraid. He wasn't ready to deal with this, with a real life-or-death situation. Birchcloud would know how, he would be able to take care of Nettleclaw.

"Y-yes?" he repeated, cursing his voice for betraying him by stuttering.

There was something odd in the deputy's eyes then: pity, and also resignation. Nettleclaw knew he was scared and felt bad for him, yet at the same time, Nettleclaw _blamed_ him for being scared. Kitetail was the medicine cat; he was supposed to take care of the sick. How could Nettleclaw feel safe when it was obvious Kitetail didn't know how to do his job?

"Catnip," said the deputy softly, and then he coughed again.

Spurred into action, Kitetail beckoned the deputy to his den, where he took out some catnip and set out an appropriate dose. He cast his eyes over his supply of catnip – there was enough if only two or three cats were sick, but if it spread... He shut his eyes. He had to set up a quarantine.

Nettleclaw gulped down the herb. Kitetail frowned. Greencough usually came after whitecough, but the deputy hadn't shown any symptoms before, unless he had been hiding them well. It made sense – the deputy didn't want to appear weak. But why hadn't he sought treatment?

Kitetail swore and padded out of the den. "Everyone!" he called out, and a few cats stopped to listen, intrigued by the desperation in his voice. "Everyone, listen up!"

Slatestar heard his call and leapt up onto the Highledge. "Everyone, pay attention to Kitetail," he said, his deep voice booming around the quarry and reaching every nook. The Clan paused them, turning their attention toward the young medicine cat standing in front of them.

Kitetail took a deep breath. This was his moment. He had to appear strong. "It has come to my attention that there may be an outbreak of greencough in the camp. All cats must report to me for a check-up, and all those diagnosed with greencough will be confined to a quarantine zone." He thought fast. "The elder's den. The elders will be relocated to the apprentice's den for the time being. This is non-negotiable. Come see me when you have time today, this can't wait any longer." If they were lucky, it would only be Nettleclaw with greencough. If they were unlucky...

Slatestar blinked in approval while the other cats whispered amongst themselves. Everyone seemed to trust his judgement, though, and already a couple cats were breaking off to pad over to the medicine cat's den. Nettleclaw padded out to stand beside Kitetail. "Good," was all the ginger-and-white tom said. Kitetail felt irked but said nothing. _I'm not Brindlefeather_, he thought.

.

By the time night fell, Kitetail had already diagnosed two other cats with greencough: Owlfeather and Mousepaw. The mentor-and-apprentice combo seemed sheepish when they found out the news, and neither one of them wanted to admit to infecting the other. Still, it was reassuring to see Owlfeather comfort his young apprentice, placing his tail around her shoulders. Kitetail assured them that their cough wasn't that bad and that he expected them both to make full recoveries, then gave them some catnip and sent them to their quarantine zone.

Beechclaw came in after, looking as though he had been sent grudgingly, and emitted a faint cough. Kitetail listened and did a quick check-up. "Sounds like whitecough," he mewed. "Easy enough to get over. Take some catnip, and avoid getting too close to your kits for awhile; we don't want them to be infected."

The light brown warrior narrowed his eyes, but all Kitetail could do was shrug. "Sorry," he mewed apologetically. Beechclaw kept his eyes narrowed as he turned and stalked away.

But this idea spurred him, and afterwards he padded over to the nursery, where Auburnfur met him. The reddish-brown she-cat already knew what he was going to say. "Keep the kits confined?"

Kitetail nodded. "Please. They're the most vulnerable, especially Breezekit. I'm worried about his immune system. But hopefully this will pass soon and they'll be out playing in no time."

"He won't like it," mewed Auburnfur, attempting humour. But the situation was too dire and Kitetail couldn't offer her anything else but a smile. The queen sighed, and when she spoke again, her voice was sincere. "Thank you, Kitetail."

It was the first gesture of appreciation he had received, and it put the brown tabby in high spirits. Still, he was worried he wouldn't have enough catnip to give to all the sick cats. What if he had to choose who recovered? What if he had to take StarClan's place in determining life and death?

A better option occurred to him, one that he needed to check over with Slatestar first. But as Kitetail trudged through the snow toward his leader's den, he was intercepted by a dark tabby form. Thickfur. The warrior stood in front of him, silent for several moments, before speaking. "About what you said earlier."

"Yes?" asked Kitetail, on guard. Knowing Thickfur, he could be in for a formidable tongue-lashing. But the grey tom's expression seemed sober compared to earlier, his amber eyes softer than Kitetail had seen before.

"I understand you're under a lot of pressure, so I forgive you for speaking rashly, now and before. But don't let it happen again." Then his eyes hardened and he turned away. Kitetail watched him go, feeling slightly better. Thickfur hadn't apologized, but something seemed to have righted itself between them.

After Thickfur had gone, Kitetail continued over to Slatestar's den. "Can I come in?" he asked. When the tom gave his assent, Kitetail pushed his way through the moss curtain and stood in front of his leader.

Slatestar looked at him with warm amber eyes. "You did well, I'm proud."

"Thank you, Slatestar," mewed the medicine cat, dipping his head. "However, I fear that I cannot handle this alone."

"Of course. That fear is natural," said Slatestar, voice deep but soft.

Kitetail swallowed. "I would like permission to go over to ShadowClan and ask Birchcloud for both advice and for any catnip he can spare. Our stock is considerable, but I'm worried it won't be enough." His heart raced. To go to ShadowClan, to see Birchcloud and Sootclaw again... he had seen them at Gatherings, of course, but it just wasn't the same. He longed to be back in his old camp, with loam underneath his paws and the scents of pine in the air. Flowerpelt would be there as well, and Hailstripe's kit... There was so much that he missed.

Slatestar looked him over, and Kitetail wondered if the dark grey tom could read his mind, and knew the real reason he wanted to return. He wasn't lying about the catnip, but he wasn't being entirely truthful either; Kitetail wasn't sure he wanted Slatestar to know how badly he longed to see his former home. If the leader doubted his loyalty, it would undermine his reliance on the medicine cat, which was essential for the Clan to function.

"Of course, Kitetail," said Slatestar, voice still warm. "Do what you must. I have faith in you to perform your duties."

It was all Kitetail could do not to spin around on his heels and run off right then. "Thank you, Slatestar," he mewed, bowing once more. "I'll go tomorrow."

**x x x**

It had been a very interesting moon.

Grainstar, known to the rest of RiverClan as Grainheart, had settled into the Clan routine, though the lie was wearing him thin and the confusion still clouded his head, his memories nothing more than a whirlpool of terror and heartbreak. He had spent the past thirty or so days hunting or patrolling the borders while perfecting his backstory, fighting the constant unease that someone would discover he was not the cat he claimed to be.

It was Toadstar and Reedheart who had come up with his 'cover story', so to speak. They, and the medicine cat Patchnose, were the only ones who knew the truth of the situation: that he was not Grainheart, but a former leader of RiverClan who should be, according to all accounts, _dead_. Grainstar had no explanations for them, nothing between the hazy memories of a storm to the moment he had opened his eyes without any real knowledge of his past.

So now he was Grainheart. He was, as far as any RiverClan warrior could know, a loner from the Twolegplace and a long-lost descedent of the original Grainstar, who legend said had disappeared there long ago, along with the rest of his patrol. But the elders, while Grainstar had quizzed them extensively on his "grandfather's" history, had no idea what the patrol had been about. It had been a secret, they told him, one that was now forever buried beneath the countless moons which had passed.

RiverClan, sympathetic to his heritage, had accepted him as a quasi-warrior. He was not properly trained and would never hold an apprentice nor a high position, but he could hunt and fight, and so was a valuable addition to their Clan, especially in this time of peril. Grainstar shivered, remembering when Toadstar had first told him about Fogpaw. A young apprentice, vanished mysteriously, right on the heels of an attempt by a ShadowClan warrior to take over the lake. WindClan was acting mysteriously too, or so the rumours went. Their scent markings were weak at the border, and an acrid stench drifted over the hills.

He remembered how Reedthroat had winced when Fogpaw's name had been mentioned, and it had taken Grainstar a moment to realize that the pale tabby was her father. The pain had been evident in the tom's dark amber eyes, and it was still present whenever Grainstar saw him, except when the tabby was around his other child, Rainpaw. The black tom was serious and sober, and his sister's loss weighed heavily upon him as well. On several occasions, Grainstar had heard the tom remark that once he was a warrior, he was going to search for her.

Yes, things were odd, and Grainstar felt that his return to RiverClan was part of the larger puzzle. It was evident that Toadstar and Patchnose felt the same way; Toadstar was continually asking the medicine cat if he had heard from StarClan regarding the matter, to which Patchnose always had the same response: no.

_No._

_._

To everyone's relief, it did not snow that night. Yesterday's snowstorm had been torturous enough, though with its flat ground, RiverClan had been in no danger of snow-ins. Cats had been cold and undoubtedly miserable, but as they huddled together against the harsh chill, they had been fine. Tonight, though, the sky was clear and the stars shone brilliantly against the ebony backdrop. The air was calm, with no hint of wind, and Grainstar felt warmer than he had for the past few days. The snowstorm had been the worst of it, and now things were beginning to thaw: leafbare would be over within the next moon or so.

Grainstar padded out of camp, paws carrying him to the stream which lazily wound its way through the heart of RiverClan's ample territory. He sat down beside it, feeling the snow-covered sand sift between his toes. Reeds surrounded him, brushing gently against his long, flax-coloured pelt. It was a peaceful night, and he was eager to savour it. It brought back memories of a better time, a leafbare night from long ago when he had met Spiderstar beneath the glittering sky.

The memories were beginning to return to him; memories from his life, from his time as leader, though what had transpired in the Twolegplace still eluded him. Grainstar didn't remember why the patrol had been sent out, or what happened to them, but bits and pieces from the rest of it were all starting to come together. Spiderstar was first on his thoughts, followed by his childhood friend, Sleetfur – and then there was Sleetfur's daughter, Mistkit, who had vanished. And from there, everything seemed to fade away.

He was distracted by the sound of crunching behind him, and turned. Toadstar was picking his way through the reeds, his black pelt stark against the fallen snow. The leader seemed surprised to run into Grainstar, though he said nothing until he had come to a seat beside him. "You too?"

The golden tom looked up, surprised. "What?"

"I come out here to think," mewed Toadstar softly. He was looking at the older tom, but his eyes were far away. "To _remember._"

"Oh." Grainstar was slightly uncomfortable, not sure how much of himself he should share with RiverClan's new leader. It felt odd to sit here beside him – part of him felt that he should be jealous of Toadstar, but another part of him knew the truth, that he was no longer RiverClan's leader and needed to move on.

"My mate died after our daughter was born. Silverpool..." Toadstar's whole posture softened at the name, and there was something wistful in his eyes, until he shook himself out of it. "Lilystream's in the nursery now."

Grainstar nodded. "You must be very happy," he mewed. "Her kits are beautiful." He had seen the young bundles a few times, though he didn't enter the nursery often. The queens saw him as a former loner and did not quite trust him around their kits. Still, Lilystream's litter _was_ wonderful. Icekit, Thornkit, and Cricketkit... he wondered if any reminded Toadstar of his lost mater.

Toadstar nodded. "I am," he mewed. "And Hazelthorn is a good father to them." There was something that the tom left unsaid in that sentence. Hazelthorn was father to the kits, but not Lilystream's mate. It was not uncommon for cats who weren't in love to mate in order to produce kits. Lilystream had wanted to be a mother, and Hazelthorn had obliged.

"You wish they were in love," said Grainstar. He usually tried to steer clear of other's personal affairs, but Toadstar looked as though he wanted to talk, and Grainstar was happy to oblige. He knew how hard it was to be leader, to have no one to talk with, to keep all those emotions bottled up for the good of the Clan. It was important to have an outlet. Spiderstar, on the rare occasions when he got to see her, had been his outlet.

The black tom shrugged. "She'll find it one day, I'm sure. Anyway, how about you?"

"Me?" Grainstar rumbled.

Toadstar nodded. "What are you remembering?"

It was a heavy question. A dozen things sprang to Grainstar's mind: sparring out here with Sleetpaw when they had both been apprentices, swimming in the stream with his sister, Sleetfur's face when he told Grainstar he would be a father, and that one fateful night when Spiderstar had visited RiverClan and he had taken her out here to show her the simply beauty of the sky and the water and all it meant to him.

He chose his words carefully. "I loved a she-cat too."

The black tom nodded again. "What happened to her?" he asked, voice soft.

Grainstar just stared out over the water, lending voice to the words that weighed like stones on his heart. "I don't know."

.

After awhile, Toadstar left, and Grainstar found himself alone once more, the night silent except for the gentle whispering of the reeds. It was hard to stop the memories from overtaking him and he closed his eyes, bathing in the feel of each one.

He and Sleetfur had been kits together. Grainkit's parents had died when he was very little; his mother from greencough and his father from a sickness that not even the medicine cat could identify. Sleetkit's parents had taken both Grainkit and his sister Maplekit in as their own, raising them until they were all old enough to become apprentices. Grainkit and Maplekit had been close, but it was him and Sleetkit who had truly been inseparable. They had once snuck out of camp together and come to this very stream, watching their reflections shimmer in the gently-moving water. "Wow," Sleetkit had said. Remembering it, Grainstar smiled. _Wow._

They had been apprentices together too, had practiced together all the time and demanded that their mentors train them in tandem. The night before they were due for their warrior ceremony, they had come back out to the stream again and had made a solemn vow, invoking StarClan, to always be brothers. Then they had become Sleetfur and Grainheart respectively.

But he was skipping some things. He had been Grainpaw when he had first met _her_. It had been at a Gathering. She had been Spiderleaf of ThunderClan, the most beautiful cat he had ever seen. But they hadn't spoken then, and Grainpaw had kept quiet about his crush until they ran into each other many moons later, when she, deputy of her Clan, was tracking an errant apprentice who, in a fit of puppy love, had run to RiverClan to be with his crush. Grainheart had been a warrior then, and he had aided her in returning the young cat to his proper Clan. He had loved the feeling of just being around her. No other cat could compare.

Things changed and he became Grainstar, and she Spiderstar, and he hated that their love could never be possible. Their Clans didn't even border each other, and their responsibilities would never permit it. But when ThunderClan had needed to seek refuge from a forest fire, Grainstar had been the first to offer his camp as a place of sanctuary. ThunderClan had stayed with them for almost a moon, and during that time...

During that time, he and Spiderstar became very close. Grainstar squeezed his eyes shut, the memories painful now. Was she in StarClan now? He could only hope. One day, perhaps, he would see her again.

Sleetfur had become a father to a beautiful young she-kit, Mistkit. The white tom, tabby-pointed and blue-eyed, had been so proud. Grainstar had been proud with him. And then Mistkit had vanished, and then – and then...

Nothing.

He opened his eyes, and the night seemed to have lost all of its sheen, its lustre. A sadness came over him; the knowledge that Sleetfur and Spiderstar were gone, and that he had remained. Grainstar didn't know why he was still here, what purposes StarClan had for him, but he knew he would complete them to the best of his ability, if only to be re-united with his loved ones.

If only...

And as he sat there, his mind ached where he had once been able to feel Sleetfur's brush against it.

**XX XX XX XX**

**A/N:** First, I'd just like to say that I didn't go back to being inactive, but that I was on vacation for a week and while I got lots of writing done, I couldn't update at all! Now that I'm back though, updates galore! (:

This chapter turned out longer than I intended, but I guess that's for the best. I have the next couple of chapters written as well, so those updates should be quick. They'll be more plot-heavy than this chapter, which was a lot of character development and exposition, though it's foreshadowing a bunch of stuff... I've rewritten most of Grainstar's plot and I can say I'm a lot happier now. I think you guys are going to like what I do with him!

First of all, thanks to everyone who reviewed! You're all fantastic and I appreciate the support. That said, I'm only going to write replies to those who have asked questions and such, just to save space. If you feel as though you asked something and it went unanswered, feel free to send me a message!

**Alyssu-Chan**: Shh, don't jinx it ;)

**Kitty Still Bites**: Wow! I'm glad I could inspire you! I'll go check it out.

**Senora Sapphire**: Haha, Chantelle is definitely annoying. I love her as a character, but I don't like her very much. Blossom does like Branch - I was initially planning to have some romance with that in the first book, but it's not really relevant, so now it's just implied. And the mind-link is still there, don't worry!

Next chapter is Fogpaw, and then after that there's Russet and Kitetail!

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	26. Chapter Twenty-Four

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR**

She woke slowly, and then all at once. Light flared into her vision, starling her out of sleep's last tender caresses. Colours slowly filtered in around her, until at last Fogpaw was able to blink her surroundings into focus. Her head hurt like nothing she had felt before, not even the torture. Her mouth was dry and her tongue felt like sandpaper against her parched palette. Dots of light swam in front of her eyes as the she-cat tried to pull herself to her feet.

Fogpaw was in a small den, hewed from rock walls, most likely carved naturally by flowing water. Indeed, a stream ran through the other side of the cave, trickling merrily with no concern for the pain which ran through her body like a shrill arpeggio. Moss lined the walls, and the front opened up to show a snow-covered field, dotted with elms and oaks. The surroundings were not familiar, but they didn't remind her of WindClan either. She sighted a fence in the distance and realized she was no longer on Clan territory.

Scenting the air, she caught a mix of various smells, none of which were familiar to her. There was no putrid stench here, no hint of the foul darkness which ran through the blood of the WindClan warriors. She felt safe here, though she still didn't know where _here_ was. The last thing Fogpaw remembered was falling into the ice-cold lake, while strong jaws attempted to pull her out. The rest was black.

The pounding in her head was too much to bear and Fogpaw paced across the den toward the trickling water. She lowered her head to drink, savouring the cold taste on her tongue. WindClan had kept her hydrated by soaking moss and dripping it into her mouth. This, this was so much better. And then the realization dawned on her – she was free!

She was no longer a captive of WindClan. Once she figured out where she was – and how she had been brought her – she could return home to her family! They would be glad to see her, she was sure. Fogpaw hoped they hadn't given her up for dead.

And yet, though she was no longer a prisoner, she still felt pain coursing through her veins as hints of the darkness hummed down her bloodstream. WindClan had changed her; she would never be the same. Her body was thinner, harder, and as she gazed at her reflection in the water, she saw her face had transformed as well. Her skin was sunken, her eyes gaunt and haunted. There was a painful ugliness to her face; her kit fat was gone and only the stark outline of her bones remained.

She felt both weaker and stronger at once, and knew that the two moons she had spent below the ground had changed her irrevocably. The names she had whispered like a prayer into the dark came flashing back to her: _Reedthroat, Morningstep, Rainpaw, Whitestream_. Her father, mother, brother and mentor. Her _family_. But Fogpaw was different now, and even if she returned, she knew she would always be different. She would walk among her family, and yet not be part of them.

The implications were heavy.

She had just lifted her muzzle from the water when she heard footsteps behind her. Someone was entering the den. Fogpaw whipped around to face the newcomer, her eyes narrowed and fangs bared. She must have been an unattractive sight, but her visitor didn't so much as flinch. He regarded her calmly and then dropped a rabbit from his jaws. "For you."

He was a large tom, with thick dark ginger fur and heavy eyes. His muscles were plain underneath his unruly pelt, and his walk bespoke a certain authority. He looked familiar to Fogpaw, though she couldn't place his scent. Yet she was sure she had seen him before, that she knew him, but the memory was only a blur in her mind, reduced to mere outlines by the torture she had endured.

Keeping her eyes on the tom, Fogpaw padded over to the rabbit. "Thank you," she said, voice rusty, and took a bite, her gaze never leaving his face. It would be unwise to let her guard down – she had learned that with Stripedpaw. The grey she-cat no longer knew whom she could trust, and the skinny tom's betrayal still burned within her, a thorn wedged tightly in her heart.

The ginger tom sat down and curled his tail neatly around his paws. "So you're awake."

Fogpaw was bursting with questions, though she tried to contain herself. "How long was I out?"

"I found you yesterday, passed out," he replied. "You were by the WindClan border, just outside of it, on unclaimed territory. I couldn't leave you – I brought you here and have been checking on you when I can."

That made no sense. Why had WindClan left her body out? Why not just kill her – unless they thought she was already dead? "But I was breathing when you found me," she asked.

The question seemed to puzzle him, and he frowned. "Of course."

Fogpaw found herself staring at him, at his burnished pelt and dark green eyes. He was so familiar, and he knew about the Clans, but the scent... the scent was foreign. Before the torture, he might have recognized him. "Do I know you?" she asked.

He hesitated, seemed to weigh the decision in his mind, and then nodded. "Yes. I used to be an apprentice of RiverClan."

_Oh_. Everything made sense then; his ginger fur, the way he hesitated to tell her the truth, how he knew of the Clans but didn't live in them anymore. She recognized him them, recognized how she had once tumbled over his paws without a care in the world. And then she remembered why he had left RiverClan, why Toadstar had banished him. "You're Russetpaw."

"Yes." His voice was clipped. "And you must be Fog_paw_ by now."

"Yes..." Fogpaw mewed, trailing off and then shaking her head. "I don't understand. Why are you here?"

"It's a long story," he mewed, and then changed the subject. "How are you feeling? Are you well enough to travel?"

"Travel?" Her head was spinning. Everything was happening too fast. "Travel where?"

"Back to the Clans," he said, with a frown, as if it was the most obvious answer in the whole world. There was disdain in his eyes, though it didn't seem to be directed at her, but at everything around them, as if Russetpaw had declared the entire lake territory his enemy. "It's Russet now," he added. Fogpaw nodded. _Of course_.

"Not to WindClan," she mewed, hoping he couldn't sense the desperation in her voice, the hint of weakness. She needed to be strong right now. Fogpaw took another bite of the rabbit, going over everything in her mind. It would be so easy to go home!

"No, not to WindClan," he agreed. "I'll bring you to the ThunderClan border. They'll take you home from there."

"You know about WindClan." Her voice was flat. He had agreed too easily; Russet must know something about what was happening, or at least be aware of it.

"Not in details," Russet said. "But we know there's something wrong."

That caught her attention. "We?" Fogpaw asked, tilting her head. She was curious to know what Russet was doing out here; a known criminal, so to speak, wandering close to Clan borders – and he evidently wasn't alone.

"It's not important," he said, in a tone that indicated it certainly was important, and looked away. Fogpaw wondered if she saw guilt there, embarrassment at his situation, or if his closed-off nature was merely a product of the arrogance he had always carried, even as a RiverClan apprentice.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked, and her voice was softer now, and she saw it reach him as he turned back toward her. "You could have left me for dead, but you didn't. You rescued me. You're a traitor, Russet, I don't understand."

He was silent for a very long time. Fogpaw watched him, eating the rest of the rabbit as she waited for a response. Eventually the muscular tom let out a long sigh and looked away, gazing out over the snowy highlands. "How much do you know about what I did?" he asked at last.

"Not much," she admitted. She had only been a kit, after all. "You were helping Falconswoop, the warrior who tried to take over ShadowClan."

Russet sighed again, and when he spoke, his voice was low. "Falconswoop would have come after RiverClan next. I anticipated that. I helped him because I knew it was the only way to protect my Clan, to protect the cats I cared about. But Toadstripe didn't understand."

"It wasn't the only way," insisted Fogpaw, but his words rang true with her, and she realized there was more to him than the elder's horror stories could convey. "Why didn't you just tell Toadstripe the truth? Come clean?"

He scoffed, a horrible, bitter sound. "Who would have believed me?"

"I would have," she said, but they both knew she didn't mean it. She had only been a kit then, oblivious to the pains of the world.

"You would have believed I was a ghost if I'd rolled around in enough snow," Russet told her, and for a moment she was transported back to a time when they had been friends and he had brought her and Rainkit plump, juicy prey. She had pounced on his tail and declared herself Fogstar, ruler of all that lay before her.

That had been a very long time ago.

"And now you're back. Why?" asked Fogpaw. The vulnerability had faded from her voice as the reality of the situation sunk back in. Despite being banished from the Clans, Russet was back, lurking around the borders – and he wasn't alone. "Do you mean the Clans harm?"

The tom hesitated. "Not RiverClan," he said.

Fogpaw flinched as though she had been hit. "What's going on?" she demanded, anger causing her voice to rise. Whatever she had been expecting after falling into the lake, this was not it. Here she was, thrust into the middle of yet another perilous situation. Russet was offering to help her get home, but that didn't matter if he was just going to attack her home afterwards.

His green eyes were cool. "I went to start a new life and it brought me back here. I don't need to explain myself to you."

"You're going to attack one of the Clans," she said. It wasn't a question.

"We gave them a choice. They brought it upon themselves." He was almost snarling now, his fur bristling and his lips drawn back to reveal gleaming fangs.

"I don't understand," said Fogpaw, trying to calm herself. Russet's posture softened slightly as her voice quieted. "You save me, but you're a killer. You made a deal with the devil – Falconswoop – in order to protect your Clan, but now you're going to deliberately attack another one."

Russet let out what she could only described as a tortured laugh. He looked like someone caught between two worlds, between the desire to be recognized and the need to do the right thing, between steadfast arrogance and a troubled conscience. When he did speak, his voice was low and grave. "There is more than one devil, Fogpaw."

She had no reply for that.

The ginger tom got to his paws. "Ready to go to ThunderClan?"

Fogpaw nodded and lumbered to her feet, body still quite sore. Russet turned and headed out onto the snowy plains, and she followed, relieved when a blast of cold air hit her face. There was something so refreshing about being outside, in the open air, birdsong wafting by her ears. The world around them was beautiful, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. She had missed so much, stuck in a den and removed from the world.

"It's this way," said Russet, and they turned. In the distance, the hill they were on lowered into a small vale, and a thick line of trees rose up in the distance. Her heart leapt. _ThunderClan_.

Fogpaw took a moment just to stand there, letting the world wash around her, enveloping her and captivating her sense. She could scent the freshness of the air, the brisk scent of frost-tinged wood, and she could feel the wind and the sun on her fur. She could hear a nearby mouse, unlucky enough to be outside, scrabbling through the crusted snow, and she could hear the steady sound of Russet's breathing, and the thoughts which scuttled around like ants in his head.

"Who's Baron?" she asked, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

He flinched. "What?"

"Baron..." Fogpaw trailed off. Everything made sense to her then – Stripedpaw's startled reaction when she had heard far-off conversations, how WindClan had mistaken her for dead, how she could sense what was on Russet's mind just by listening. The darkness hadn't just hurt her, it had _molded_ her.

"I have to go," she told Russet, who was still staring at her, dumbstruck.

"Where are you going?" he asked, voice gruff, and it was clear that he was trying to regain some of his composure.

"WindClan," she mewed. "There's something I have to do." She thought of Stripedpaw, of all the pain he had endured, and something in her mind hummed. She would save him, and then she would think about forgiving him later. Well, if there was a later. Fogpaw padded up to Russet and met his curious gaze. She could feel the goodness deep within him, entrenched in the depths of his mind. It was a strange sensation, and it made her queasy. But she had to do something with it, had to grace her knowledge with the proper words. "Whatever's happening – you're better than this." She pressed her muzzle to his shoulder in appreciation. "Thank you for saving me."

And then she ran.

.

It wasn't too far to the WindClan border, and Fogpaw crossed over after taking a second to sweep her mind around and make sure that patrols were on their way through the area. She slipped into the cover of a heather bush, and was now in the process of picking her way across their territory, taking care to stay undercover. If she had one advantage, it was that WindClan would have difficulty scenting her underneath their own acrid smell.

She tried to comprehend the gravity of what had just happened. Instead of killing her or turning her into another succubi, the darkness had merely made her stronger. Her sense of hearing was now unparalleled. Stripedpaw had known this; he had sensed it immediately, had been able to tell that something was wrong. Fogpaw wondered if he had told the rest of his Clan, or whatever dark spirits possessed them. It was a terrifying side-effect – she wasn't sure whether to call it a gift or a curse – but she couldn't waste it.

She had to save him, even if he had betrayed her. Besides, if they were to return to RiverClan with information, Stripedpaw knew more about WindClan's situation than Fogpaw did. He would be invaluable. And yet she knew that others would call her mouse-brained for what she was doing. Stripedpaw didn't deserve her help. If it weren't for him, she would be in RiverClan right now, reunited with her family. Fogpaw couldn't explain it, but she had to help him.

She arrived at WindClan's camp just as the sun was beginning to set, stopping as close to entrance as she could risk. Fogpaw made sure to stay hidden between a gorse bush and a large boulder as she let her mind wander out. She found a guard sitting by the trail into camp and gleaned his name: Rootfur. Tucking that aside as a mental note, she cast her attuned sense of hearing down into camp, where she ran into a noisy mixture of thought and speech that sent her recoiling. Clearly, this new skill was still sensitive.

Fogpaw listened again, this time identifying cats: Frostpool spoke to Cedarpelt about her kits, Cloudstorm shared tongues with Tansyfur, and Stripedpaw sat alone, speaking to no one but allowing his thoughts to whirl around in his head like a hurricane.

Fogpaw took the risk, reached out, and touched his mind. Something slid into place with a quiet but firm thud, and suddenly all the other noise vanished. It was just her and Stripedpaw, and she could feel his mind vibrate as he sat, unawares of the connection she had just forged.

_Stripedpaw._

She felt him start, clearly surprised and rattled by her voice. _Think back to me_, Fogpaw told him.

_Fogpaw?_ His voice was incredulous. _You're dead. They carried your body out._

This only confirmed the feeling of trepidation that had been growing inside of her. Somehow her body had shut down long enough to convince WindClan that she was dead, only to restart when they were gone. Fogpaw felt her legs tremble but knew she couldn't show weakness. _Neat trick, huh?_

She took perverse pleasure in knowing that Stripedpaw was unnerved, though it was soon replaced by guilt. The young tabby was traumatized; he was coping the best he could. But Fogpaw had been traumatized too, and she hadn't thought to betray one of her allies. Anger flashed through her mind and she could tell that Stripedpaw felt it, for his mind shook next to hers.

_Why did you come back? How did you do this?_ Stripedpaw sent.

_You know how it happened. Whatever they did with the darkness, it changed me. It gave me... abilities._ No resentment burned in her voice, only ferocity. _I came back to rescue you._

He stiffened. _I betrayed you._

_I didn't say that I had forgiven you_, Fogpaw pointed out. _We'll worry about that later. In the meantime, it would be wrong of me to leave you behind._

_ They were beginning to suspect me, _he explained, _I had to. I didn't think you would die – or almost die – or whatever._

_ You should have come with me_, she said.

Stripedpaw hesitated. _I know_, he said at last. _I was scared_.

_Come with me now_, Fogpaw urged him. _Leave camp, make whatever excuse you want. Meet me by the boulder._ When he hesitated, she added: _if you go to tell anyone, I'll know._

_ Thornfur died, you know, _Stripedpaw said unexpectedly. _In the lake_. _Swiftfang is deputy now._

_I'm sorry, _said Fogpaw. Underneath the darkness, she was sure that Thornfur had been a good warrior. She felt only sadness for his death; and an overwhelming knowledge that it had been her fault. An image of the tom's lifeless eyes flashed before her face and she winced.

_I want to stop this, this darkness. I don't want anyone else to die._ His words were filled with more emotion than she had witnessed from him before, and the sadness touched her mind and caused her to tremble even more. This sharing of pain – it wasn't easy.

_Then come with me, _Fogpaw told him, wishing she could promise him they would end the darkness.

He hesitated for a moment, and then – _I'll be right there._

.

They met at the boulder as Fogpaw had specified. Stripedpaw was skinnier than she had remembered, his face gaunt, but his eyes held something new, a hint of hope that had previously been extinguished. His skinny legs were trembling, but he met her with his chin held high. She didn't say anything to him. She didn't need to.

When Stripedpaw assured her that there was no one around, the two of them began to trek across the moorland, making sure to stay close to cover. Fogpaw kept herself on high alert. She couldn't discount the possibility that Stripedpaw had somehow covertly alerted the others to her scheme. But something compelled her to trust the tom this time, something about the raw honesty of his mind.

"What's RiverClan like?" he asked as they stood on top of a hill, watching the sun set over the glittering lake.

Fogpaw looked at the horizon and smiled for the first time in two moons. "It's home."

**XX XX XX XX XX**

**A/N: **Funny story. I've had this chapter written for ages and I just... never... updated? Yeah. Wow. I know, I'm mad at me too. Anyway, I have another chapter fully written as well, which will be uploaded hopefully in a couple of days (depending on reviews, heh). It's about twice as long as this one and it's heavy. As in really heavy. Something big will be revealed. It's a split Russet/Kite POV.

Alright, wow, there are a lot of things to go over. I'll start with the most obvious: the link between Fogpaw and Stripedpaw is different than what Sootclaw and Dawnpaw have. Dawnpaw and Sootclaw share a more profound connection: pieces of their soul were swapped. Fogpaw, on the other hand, has been gifted with extraordinary senses. She can feel Stripedpaw's mind and connect to it, and I suspect that connection would be maintained as long as they were relatively close to each other, but Fogpaw could also disconnect at will. Though between Fogpaw's power and Grainstar's revelation, mind-links are not as rare as you might have thought. More will be revealed in later chapters – and next book! Have I released the title yet? I totally forget.

Thanks for all the reviews! Since it's been so long I won't address them all individually but just make a couple of broad points. First of all, Thickfur. He's the best. Agreed 100%. I tend to write a lot of angsty, slightly older characters. I've been doing NaNoWriMo for the past few years and I always have an MC that's something thirty-something steely, angst-ridden detective. I should really stop.

The rogue that looks like Lilystream has no relation, but as for Mistkit... it's not an impossible theory, so you'll just have to stay tuned! Everyone who was worried about Fogpaw... here you go! As for those worried about Dawnpaw, hate to say this, but there's still a while to go until she gets out.

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	27. Chapter Twenty-Five

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE**

Night was falling. Russet hurried through the drifts of snow, knowing he needed to return to camp before the sun vanished beneath the horizon. He had spent too much time caring for Fogpaw, and he was sure that Baron would want a detailed account of his whereabouts. _Baron_... he remembered how Fogpaw had known the name, and shuddered. The way she had spoken to him had been strange. He hadn't asked what had happened to her, why she looked the way she did – a spectre of her former self – but in retrospect, he should have. She was _different_ in a way that he couldn't place, and it unnerved him.

He had been patrolling, checking the borders to make sure no Clan cats were after the rogues, when he had found her buried in pile of snow, her fluffy grey fur peeking up from underneath the piles of white. It had been a strange moment for him, and his heart had been torn. On one hand, he couldn't afford to take care of her. On the other, he knew her, and he couldn't just leave her there... in the end, his loyalty to his former Clanmates had won out. It had been a very telling moment for him, one that he wished had never happened.

Ever since the battle, Russet had been feeling doubt, doubt about his actions, about his loyalty to Baron, even about his decision to assist Falconswoop. Killing had seemed so easy before he had actually had to do it. Ashpoppy's face still lingered in his mind, haunting him, and he remembered how easy it had been to kill her – and how sick it had made him feel. His stomach churned whenever he thought about the battle, and he wondered what would have happened if he had been able to kill Hailstripe, if his life would have been different. Bile rose in his throat. Others had died that night too. Mintpool. Mudpaw. Cats he had met at Gatherings, cat with whom he had laughed and traded stories.

Cats that died because of him.

He shut his eyes.

_"I'm Mudpaw," said the tom, voice shy. He was clearly in his first moon as an apprentice, and his inexperience showed as he regarded the assembled cats with wide eyes, drinking in the sight and the scents._

_ Russetpaw smiled and sat down, wrapping his tail over Lilypaw's flank. The she-cat was beside him, her golden eyes bright, and she leaned in so that their shoulders touched. The contact was enough to make Russetpaw dizzy. "I'm Russetpaw, of RiverClan," he mewed. "This is Lilypaw."_

_ "Who's your mentor?" asked Mudpaw, curiosity seeming to get the better of hesitant nature._

_ "Toadstripe," said Russetpaw proudly._

_ Mudpaw's eyes lit up. "The deputy?" he asked reverently. _

He opened them.

The rogues had suffered losses too, three or four cats, but Baron couldn't seem to care less. Instead of burying the bodies as the Clans did, they had simply disposed of them, tossing them in a nearby ravine to let the crows feast on the flesh. Carrionpaw had supervised, and it seemed as though the tom found some perverse satisfaction from the act. The lack of respect for life made Russet sick.

He had thought he could do this, thought he could handle it. It was what he wanted – recognition of his strength, respect, and power. That was all he had ever wanted, and RiverClan hadn't provided that for him. But RiverClan had never asked him to murder anyone either. Baron had. In fact, Baron _insisted_. If Russet was to ever become an important member of the organization, he was going to have to get used to blood, Baron had said. Hence the ritual...

Russet swallowed heavily, pushing the thought from his mind as he quickened his pace. He wasn't far from their temporary camp now. Baron and the others would be waiting. The blizzard had weakened them, though they had saved up enough fresh-kill to last until prey returned. The rabbit Russet had caught earlier for Fogpaw had been the only one he had seen all day; part of him felt guilty for giving it to her instead of the city cats, and again his heart was torn between the two things he wanted. Everything was breaking down around him, and Fogpaw had only made it worse...

He should never have saved her. Russet grimaced. No, he had only thought that in anger, and he was angry because he thought that she could be right, that maybe he shouldn't be doing this, that he was _better_ than this. The muscular tom ground his teeth. How had she known just what to say?

It was clear that he had two choices: he could stay with Baron's band or he could leave. If he stayed, he would have to commit, have to learn to desensitize himself to the bloodshed, have to _kill_. If he left, where would he go? Not back to RiverClan; they would never take him back, or any of the other Clans. He would be on his own again, wandering, and if Baron's band found him after he had deserted...

Maybe he only had one choice after all.

_Run,_ said a little voice in the back of his mind. _Run now, while you can_.

But he didn't. He just kept heading back to where Baron waited for him, and he hated himself for it, hated himself more with every step.

.

They were waiting for him. While other cats milled around, tending to their own affairs, Flynn and Carrionpaw stood in the centre of camp, their eyes fixed on Russet from the moment he came over the ridge and began to trot down toward them. Their gazes were unflinching and Russet felt a feeling of dread pool at the bottom of his stomach. They weren't sure of him yet. No matter what they said, they were not on his side, and they were not his friends.

"Where were you?" asked Carrionpaw in his rasping voice.

"Hunting." Russet's reply was defensive.

Flynn said nothing, just let his gaze drift from Russet's eyes to his empty jaws and back. Russet felt even more defensive now, a prickle of unease running down his spine. "There's nothing out there because of the snowstorm. You know that."

"We do," said Flynn lightly, but his tone was not that of a concession. "Are you ready?"

The ritual. It sounded religious, but it was anything but. These city cats had no need of StarClan or any gods; all of their sacrifices functioned either as a rite of passage or to appease Baron. Tonight, it was a way for Russet to prove his worth to the band and to Baron.

He dipped his head. "Yes."

.

They led him to a secluded grove of trees. Flynn took the lead while Carrionpaw hung behind Russet, just in case he chose to run away at the last moment. The sun was gone now, and night had overcome the land. Far in the distance, he could make out part of the lake's shining surface. The sky was dark, and the stars shone. _Silverpelt_. Were they watching him? Did they still even care? Would he go to StarClan when he died, or to the land underneath it, or would he just be caught somewhere in the middle, unclaimed for all of time?

Fear gripped him them. _I want to go to StarClan_. He had never thought about dying before – why should he? As an apprentice, he had been the strongest in the Clan, powerful and confident. As part of Baron's band, he had been proud, arrogance satisfied by the attention that Baron gave him. He hadn't thought of death, not until seeing Fogpaw. He ground his teeth once more. She just had to go and ruin everything, didn't she? Something was off about her, and it made his skin prickle.

But now wasn't the time to think about that.

They entered the grove, Russet trying to beat back the strange fear that was clutching his chest in a vice grip. The trees rose around him, bent and gnarled, the moonlight casting their shadows onto the snow where they loomed as large as giants. In the centre of the grove lay a slab of rock, weather-worn but unnatural. Had the Twolegs put it here? Suddenly he wanted to be anywhere but here, but Baron was standing by the rock, his grey eyes cold, and Russet knew there was nowhere to go but forward.

He stepped up to the rock. Flynn and Carrionpaw flanked him while Baron stood there, unspeaking. After a few moments had passed, Baron jerked his head, gesturing to one of the few cats that accompanied him. Another few seconds passed, and then a cat was brought out of the shadows and led on to the rock.

Russet watched in revulsion. The prisoner was a young cat, barely older than a kit. He was covered in fluffy white fur, his face and paws pointed with ginger tabby markings. His eyes were a terrified bright blue and with a start, Russet saw that he had been declawed. His stomach lurched. This was no forest cat, but a kittypet. He tore his eyes away from the struggling tom, plump and soft compared to the city cats, and looked at Baron questioningly.

The reddish-brown tom caught his look. "A house-cat," he explained. "Wandered too far from his owners, if you ask me. Ah well, it's time we asserted our dominance around here."

Russet's stomach rolled with disgust. "He's innocent," he said quietly. Behind him, Carrionpaw let out a barking laugh that carried far across the still plains.

"He is," Baron said, nodding, which surprised the ginger tom. Then Baron narrowed his eyes. "But that shouldn't matter to you. Hold him down." He addressed the last part of the comment to the cats escorting the kittypet across the clearing.

The flame-pointed tom was brought to the slab. He struggled against his captors, but they were far stronger than he was, and they shoved him down with minimal effort. Steel eyes glinting, Baron looked up at Russet. "Do you know what to do?"

They had prepared him for this moment. Russet ran it through in his head: keep him alive as long as possible, open the stomach first, eviscerate him, and taste the blood. He shuddered again. He couldn't do this, but he had to. There was no other choice. "Yes," he said, meeting Baron's eyes.

Baron nodded, giving him permission to continue. Russet took a deep breath and then approached the stone, conscious of how he must appear to the kittypet. He was a hulking forest cat, scarred, with eyes that spoke of brooding anger. He saw the blood drain from the young tom's face as he approached. The kittypet tried to free himself once more, but his resistance was only met with a blow to the face from once of his guards. Letting out a low whimper, the kittypet fell silent.

Russet stood over him, watching as the moonlight fell upon his plump form. He could do this so easily, could make it _hurt_, could torture this young tom. He had the physical strength to do it, but did he have the fortitude? That was another question completely. To take an innocent life... the young tom was so scared.

And then it was Hailstripe in front of him, so wounded, waiting for death. And then Hailstripe transformed into Ashpoppy, and Russet remembered tearing out her throat, how the blood had felt as it spattered, steaming, on his throat. His knees quaked and he hoped that Baron couldn't see it. He wasn't like this cats, wasn't as heartless. RiverClan had instilled him with a set of morals and values and they were still with him, despite everything that had happened.

He remembered meeting Falconswoop after the battle, how the tom had hit him around and beat him for his failure to do his duty. He remembered thinking that he just needed to endure, to do it for Lilypaw and Toadstripe. He remembered what Falconswoop had said, the words that had burned in his ears for a moon after. _"You're not a killer, Russetpaw. No matter how much you pretend."_

And then a third option came to him, one he had never considered, and he realized it was the only thing he could do.

He bent over the young tom until his jaws were by the kittypet's ears. His breath hitched and he only hoped that no one in the clearing had an uncanny sense of hearing. Russet's gaze flicked to Baron, and he knew that those grey eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life. Then he turned back to the tom. "When I move, you need to run. Go down toward the trees. Don't look back or stop for even an instant. Blink twice if you understand me."

The kittypet blinked twice.

_Here goes nothing._

And with that, Russet threw himself at the nearest guard, a wiry black tom whose name was unknown to him. They hit the ground hard and Russet, heightened by adrenaline, tore at his shoulder and neck. The guard had been unprepared, and Russet found his fangs sunk deep into the soft flesh of the black tom's throat. He ripped it out and realized just how easy killing was, when you were killing for the right reason.

He turned to see the other guard, a grey she-cat, barrelling at him, and behind him, the slab of rock was empty. Russet saw a flash of white vanish against the snow, and then suddenly the other guard was on him, and they were wrestling, turning over and over in the snow. Then he used his strength to gain the upper hand and he held the she-cat down in the snow, raking his claws down the guard's underbelly. She let out a yowl of pain as the blood spilled out around them, staining the snow.

Russet pushed off of her, getting to his paws. Flynn and Carrionpaw had surrounded him, though Baron hadn't moved. "See?" said the tom. "You can kill."

Anger coursed through his veins, his head pounding with the thrill of it. The blood tasted good in his mouth, unlike Ashpoppy's, which had been thick and sour. His eyes darted between the three cats, judging his distance to the rolling hills, where he was sure he could escape. He could move faster than them, he was sure, if he got the upper hand. Would they bother to chase him?

"Why?" asked Baron, tilting his head.

_I swore to protect the weak_. But he had never made that vow in front of StarClan, had never earned a warrior ceremony. But Russet had sworn it to himself once, long ago, when he had first received his apprentice name. The words of the vow had been lost to him over time, but he had never forgot what it meant. It was why he had sold himself to protect his Clan. It was why he couldn't kill Hailstripe.

Russet didn't answer, just faked a move to the left before throwing himself to the right, aiming for the space in-between Flynn and Carrionpaw. He moved like the wind, but they were faster, and soon Flynn had knocked into him, pushing him down to the ground. Russet struggled, but the lieutenant was far stronger, and he soon gained the upper hand.

And then something surprising happened.

Baron called Flynn off. "Let him go."

Russet scrambled to his paws as Flynn backed away. The handsome tom was clearly confused, upset that he had lost his chance to tear out yet another throat. "What?" he snarled, angry.

"I want to see what will happen," said Baron, his cold eyes never leaving Russet's face. "I'm interested."

His words chilled Russet to the core, but he had been handed a momentary reprieve from fate, and he wouldn't argue with it. He backed away from the three cats, eyes scouring the plains for any sign of the kittypet – but there was no body to be seen. He must have escaped. Russet felt a sigh of relief, and was surprised by how good the knowledge felt. He had done the right thing.

When he was far enough away, he turned tail and ran as fast as he could, hurtling over the moorland, snow cracking beneath his worn paws. He didn't know where he was going, only that he wanted to get as far away as possible. He stumbled a few times, over stones hidden in the snow, but somehow made it to a small Twoleg farm, where sheep stumbled back and forth, baa-ing anxiously as they huddled against the cold.

Russet found a pile of their dung and rolled himself in it to disguise his scent, wrinkling his nose as he did so. Then he turned his attention back to the land around him, trying to locate the lake and the Clans. There was a certain cat he needed to visit.

**x x x**

The next morning was even nicer than the last. Kitetail looked up at the sky, a purr in his throat as he regarded just how blue it was. The snowstorm seemed no more than a memory now, and he felt as though he could have been happy, had it not been for the threat of greencough which hung over the camp. Nettleclaw had been getting worse, though the others showed no signs of their condition deteriorating. Beechclaw followed Kitetail's advice about avoiding the nursery, though he complained about it to anyone who would listen. They had enough catnip for the next couple of days, and Kitetail had left it with Galepaw to distribute to cats in need.

The medicine cat, meanwhile, was on his way to ShadowClan.

He reached the border and paused, waiting for his companion to catch up. Slatestar had ordered a warrior to go with Kitetail, just on the off chance that ShadowClan was not as receptive as was expected, and so Larchstripe was his guard. It was also – though this was unspoken – protection in case any rogues or WindClan cats showed up unannounced. Though the blizzard must have weakened them as well, giving ThunderClan a few days of respite, the risk was always there. It was just a precaution, but Kitetail wasn't sure how ShadowClan would take it.

Would they be offended that he had brought a warrior with him? Would they even be open to him at all? Or was he now just a ThunderClan cat to them, an enemy in their eyes? Medicine cats were protected by the warrior code, but the code didn't require the other Clans to be anything but polite, and Kitetail knew, from his time in ThunderClan, that ShadowClan had a reputation for being cold.

_What if Birchcloud no longer cares about me?_

Birchcloud's approval had sustained him for so long, and now it was gone, and Kitetail was on his own. That was his greatest fear, he realized with a start. His greatest fear was that his family had moved on.

"Kitetail." Larchstripe caught up to him and they crossed the border together. He sized up the she-cat as they were walking, glad for her protection. The silver tabby was a great warrior, though she kept to herself, and Kitetail didn't know very much about her. He knew Slatestar confided in her and that she commanded the respect of his Clanmates, but that was it.

Maybe now was the time to ask. "Tell me about yourself," he prompted.

She shot him an exasperated look. "Now?"

"What else are going to do?" he said with a shrug. Then Kitetail sighed. "As medicine cat, it's part of my duty to get to know everyone in ThunderClan. Please let me do my job."

"Alright," she said as she led the way across the clearing. She then seemed to realize that Kitetail knew the territory far better than she did, and she paused to let him go first. "What do you want to know?"

"Family. Mate. Kits," he mewed, taking a stab at all of the obvious ones. They were entering the ShadowClan forest now, and the pines rose above him, tall and comforting. A thrill ran down his spine. _Home_.

"I took a mate once," Larchstripe mewed softly. "I was still young then, and the tom who had been my mentor... let's just say he was a very charming cat. We had a kit together, but she... she didn't make it. If she had, she would be about Thickfur and Cherrytail's age now. Their mother and I were friends in the nursery. Afterwards, I guess something in my just decided I didn't want kits anymore, and I started working on my skills as a warrior."

"Thickfur's mother," repeated Kitetail, zeroing on that part of her story. It might not have been his place to know about Thickfur's past, at least not by asking around, but he could tell it was sensitive and was curious. What had made the grey tom so cold?

"Yeah, Flamefur," mewed Larchstripe absentmindedly, not seeing what he was driving at. But before Kitetail could ask another question, they were interrupted as a wave of ShadowClan scent wafted over them.

He turned to see three ShadowClan cats emerging from the pines. Larchstripe tensed, but Kitetail gestured to her with his tail: _it's alright_. He knew them all, and he could see from their faces that they were happy to see him. Redfur led the patrol, followed by Greywing and Nightpaw. The black she-cat had an eager look on her young face, glad for any excitement to break the dull routine of patrolling.

"Kitetail," said Greywing, dipping his head as a gesture of respect. Nightpaw followed suit, and Kitetail felt another thrill run through him. They recognized him as a proper medicine cat!

Redfur stepped forward and touched noses with him. "Welcome," she mewed, a purr rumbling low in her throat. Then she stepped back at look at the silver tabby beside him. "Welcome, Larchstripe," she added, and there was a hesitant note of friendship in her tone. "What brings you here?"

He took a deep breath. "Redfur, there is an outbreak of greencough in ThunderClan. Nothing major, however I have come to seek advice from Birchcloud as well as any catnip he can spare."

Nightpaw muttered something to Greywing, to which he frowned and replied: "Yes, greencough. You haven't witnessed it before because you're lucky."

Those words sent relief running through Kitetail's veins. ShadowClan did not have it as well, meaning Birchcloud would be more likely to spare catnip. "Will you take us to your camp?"

Redfur nodded. "Come with us."

.

It didn't take them long to reach ShadowClan camp, though judging by the amount of unasked questions shining in Nightpaw's eyes, Kitetail felt as though he had been travelling for eons. He would answer some for her later, when her mentor wasn't around to give her flak for interrogating a medicine cat. In the meantime, though, Kitetail turned his attention forward, where they were entering a small clearing. Again, the thrill ran through him. _Home_.

ShadowClan camp was as he remembered it. Trees grew tall into the sky, their roots curled above the ground. Moss boulders sat on the edge of camp, which was lined by a wall of bramble. The dens were low in the ground, constructed from branches and ferns and occasionally supplemented with mud. The ground underneath his paws dipped and he remembered, despite the snow, the feeling of loam compressing with each step. The air was the same, cool but still, and he tilted his head up, looking at the ever-familiar canopy spread out above him. It smelled like mud and peat and moss and it made his heart flutter. He missed this.

Cats that were still in camp came out of their dens to see him. Kitetail recognized Sprucetail in the nursery, though he didn't recognize the two shapes flopping over her paws. He saw Flowerpelt run out toward him, her eyes shining with affection and excitement. Kitetail touched noses with her and then pressed his muzzle into her shoulder. He was aware of Larchstripe watching, but didn't care. This was his homecoming. Flowerpelt stepped back. "I missed you," she said.

He smiled. "I miss you every day," he said, words honest. Flowerpelt had been his best friend for so long. Then his eyes caught sight of another figure, Eaglestar, who was watching him with a concealed expression. Before Kitetail could make a move toward him, Redfur reached him and spoke to the tom in lowered tones, clearing explaining the situation. Eaglestar nodded slowly.

And then - "Kitetail."

It was the voice Kitetail had been dying to hear ever since Slatestar gave him permission to go to ShadowClan. He recognized it instantly and felt his heart race as he turned around. A dark grey tom stood in front of him, muscled and powerful, with bright amber eyes. "Sootclaw," he breathed.

And then they were embracing, Sootclaw's muzzle pressed firmly against Kitetail's shoulder as the brown tabby inhaled his brother's scent. He had changed in these past few moons, had filled out and grown ever stronger. He was an impressive sight, and yet there was a softness to him that had been missing all those moons ago. Kitetail let out a soft sigh and let a purr rumble in his throat. They stayed like that for a moment before Sootclaw pulled away.

"You look well," said Sootclaw. "What brings you here?"

"I've come to ask Birchcloud for supplies," explained Kitetail. He noticed Sootclaw shooting a confused glance in Larchstripe's direction and decided to explain. "A precaution. Just in case."

Sootclaw nodded, but there was a frown on his face. "Is ThunderClan alright?"

"I..." Kitetail hesitated. He wanted to tell his brother the truth, wanted to get the weight off his chest, but he had to be loyal to ThunderClan. "Yes. Everything's fine. A couple of cats have come down with greencough but it's nothing serious." He thought of Nettleclaw and flinched internally, wishing he could tell Sootclaw just how scared he really was.

The grey tom didn't look convinced, as if he knew there was something beyond the sickness, but then he shrugged and forced a smile. "Well, Birchcloud's in his den," he mewed. A pained expression crossed his face then, as if there was a question he wanted to ask but didn't dare. Then he pushed it away. "But how are you? How's life in ThunderClan? Are they treating you well?"

Kitetail nodded, relieved for a change in subject. "Slatestar has been nothing but kind to me. There are a couple cats who still haven't adjusted to my position," he mewed, thinking of Thickfur, "but it's nothing serious. They're getting there. It's really neat, Sootclaw – cats are respecting me, listening to me, coming to me for advice. It's a lot of responsibility."

"Well, you earned it," Sootclaw said, amber eyes washing over his brother's face. They were filled with nothing but affection – another marked change from the time when Falconswoop had still been alive.

Kitetail dared to ask. "Do you think about him? Falconswoop?"

The question took Sootclaw by surprise. The dark grey warrior tensed. "I try not to," he said, at length. "It's over now."

The brown tabby nodded. "Alright," he mewed, trailing off.

Sootclaw's eyes flashed, and there was that look again, like he desperately wanted to know something but couldn't find the words to ask. Then it vanished and Sootclaw turned his head. "It was good to see you, Kitetail."

"Yeah," Kitetail agreed, but he was distracted, his head suddenly filled with thoughts of Dawnpaw. He frowned. Where had that come from? "I should go find Birchcloud." Sootclaw nodded and the medicine cat padded off toward his former mentor's den.

He paused before entering, remembering all the times he had come here as an apprentice, looking over his shoulder to make sure that Falconswoop wasn't watching. But Falconswoop was gone now, and Kitetail had every right in the world to enter. He took a deep breath and strode in.

Birchcloud was waiting for him. The light grey tom looked the same as he always did: soft, slender, but with unusually sharp eyes. "Welcome, Kitetail," he mewed, respect and affection intermingled in his voice. Kitetail dipped his head, but Birchcloud chided him. "No need."

"Did Redfur or Eaglestar tell you why I came?" asked Kitetail, taking a seat. He had seen the deputy enter the den when he had been busy talking to Sootclaw.

Birchcloud nodded. "And I have catnip that you can take back with you. ShadowClan has been fortunate this leafbare; no one has come down with greencough."

"Thank you," murmured Kitetail, watching as Birchcloud padded over to the side of his den and removed a packet of herbs from its resting place, putting them down in front of the ThunderClan tom.

"Is there anything else?" asked the grey tom.

Kitetail hesitated and then nodded. If there was one cat he could trust with his worries and anxieties, it would Birchcloud. "I'm scared," he admitted. "What if it gets really bad and I can't handle it? What if someone dies?"

Sympathy clouded Birchcloud's gaze. "You're young, Kitetail, but I wouldn't have left you alone and recommended you receive your full name if I didn't have faith in your abilities. You're an exceptionally gifted medicine cat; as an apprentice, you were already better than the average medicine cat apprentice. You don't realize it yet, but you will soon. And as for death... every medicine cat has lost a patient. It's hard, but life goes on. No one will blame you."

"They will," Kitetail insisted. "Not everyone, not most, but some will. They'll blame me because I'm from ShadowClan and I'm inexperienced and they'll say that Brindlefeather could have saved the cat."

"They're wrong," said Birchcloud softly. "Brindlefeather is dead, and that isn't your fault. Sometimes cats will take out their anger by blaming you, but they don't truly believe it, and you shouldn't believe it either."

Kitetail thought of the look in Nettleclaw's eyes, when the deputy had become sick and had known that Kitetail wouldn't be able to save him, that the dark brown tabby didn't know enough. He flinched. "How can I get them to trust me?" he asked.

"That takes time," said Birchcloud, and this time there was sadness in his voice. "All you can do is wait it out. But I have faith in you."

The tabby nodded. "Thank you," he mewed, feeling better for having poured out his feelings. He got to his paws, ready to take the catnip back to ThunderClan.

"Kitetail, wait," said Birchcloud, and there was a seriousness in his voice that made Kitetail freeze.

The ThunderClan tom sat back down. "Yes?" he asked, remembering the last time Birchcloud had spoken to him like this, when Birchcloud had confessed his feelings about Cricketsong. He swallowed heavily. What did the grey tom have to say?

Birchcloud looked outside to make sure no one was listening, and then he pulled Kitetail closed to him, speaking in a low voice. "There's something I need to tell you, a secret I've been carrying for far too long. I want you to promise me that you won't tell Sootclaw until the time is right."

Unease trickled through Kitetail. "What's going on, Birchcloud?"

"Promise me," said ShadowClan tom, voice firm. "You know him better than I do." Was that regret in his tone?

"Okay. I promise," said Kitetail, the words drawn out of him slowly. He felt as though he was falling into an abyss, dragged down into the darkness below.

Birchcloud took a deep breath. "You know how mating works, that a she-cat can carry a litter from multiple toms?"

"Of course I know that," Kitetail snapped. Apprehension had gotten the better of him and turned his words into an attack. "Sorry."

The grey tom nodded, seeming unconcerned with Kitetail's tone. He was distracted, as if this secret weighed heavy on him, churning in his mind and pulling him back to a time long ago. "When I told you about my history with Cricketsong, it wasn't entirely true. She did start to realize the truth about Falconswoop, but it was too late. They had already mated. Still, in a last-ditch effort, she came to me, in the hopes that the kits could be mine instead of his. I loved her. I couldn't refuse, not even for StarClan."

"You broke your vow." Kitetail's voice was heavy and flat, and he wanted to be disappointed in his mentor, but he _understood_. He knew what Falconswoop was like, knew that Birchcloud must have been aware of his sacrifice.

Birchcloud nodded. "Yes. And you remember when I told you why I hated Sootclaw so much, that I always saw him as his father in another skin? That wasn't the whole truth either."

_No_. Kitetail felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. His legs buckled and it was all he could do to stop himself from collapsing onto the floor. _No, no, it can't be true_. But it made sense, explained why Sootclaw's pelt was grey, not brown...

"I couldn't tell him earlier," said Birchcloud, "not when Falconswoop was around. It wasn't safe. And now I just... I don't know how. That's why I'm giving it to you, because you know him best."

_No_, screamed Kitetail again, but he couldn't tear himself away from Birchcloud's soft voice. He knew he should run, leave before Birchcloud could utter the words that would change everything and condemn him, but he couldn't. So he sat there, screaming internally with agony.

Birchcloud continued. "The reason I hated Sootclaw so much was because whenever I looked at him, I saw a miniature Falconswoop in the body of _my son_."

** XX XX XX**

**A/N:** Holy long chapter, Batman! Especially since I wanted to include a Chantelle scene in this chapter – scratch that, this entire chapter was supposed to be Chantelle, and I ran out of room. She and Elmheart were going to come to a decision, but 5500 words later, yeah no. We'll see them soon though!

Anyway, There's a lot to say about this, so I'll start with Russet. He's on the path to redemption, sorta. As for the kittypet he saved, we'll see him again, but it won't end up the way you expect. Why did Baron let him go? Baron's not worried about Russet, he knows he can kill him easily, and there's a part of Baron that's very interested to see what Russet will do. It's almost an experiment.

As for Kitetail and Birchcloud – AH! Wow! Did you see this coming? No? It's a big revelation, especially because Sootclaw's identity is so firmly built on being Falconswoop's son. It's also harsh for Kitetail – he had always wanted Birchcloud as a father instead of Falconswoop, but the way it turns out, Sootclaw gets that instead. Now we'll just have to see what Kitetail does with this secret.

Thanks to everyone still here, reading and reviewing! You rock, so enjoy this update!

Also, would you believe I started this story almost two years ago? That's... wow... that says a lot about how bad I am at finishing things.

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	28. Chapter Twenty-Six

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX**

Dawnpaw was tired.

Not a good tired, not the kind of tired you get after a long day of productive work, of training or hunting or patrolling, but a complete physical and mental exhaustion that overtook her entire body. It was an exhaustion that had done nothing but grow over the time she had been here, and it was changing her. The she-cat was not the same as she had been entering the Dark Forest. Though it hadn't been that long, she felt like she had aged moons and moons, like she was an elder drawing some final, shuddering breaths before she would close her eyes for the last time.

She sat with Branchpaw a long time, letting the starlight bathe over her, trying to draw strength from her proximity to StarClan. She had continued sitting even after her brother had left, feeling her heart crack into pieces at his absence. She hadn't realized just how much she missed him, and seeing him again – just to _lose_ him – made it one hundred times worse. She remembered the day he died, remembered _killing _him and the taste of his blood, and while part of her was relieved that he was happy now, the guilt had returned, leaving her confused. Dawnpaw had thought that coming to StarClan would be the end of journey, but now she was lost. Where did she go from here?

She sat the whole night by the border, alone, lost in her thoughts. It felt like she was sitting vigil for a warrior ceremony that might never happen. She was still too young to receive her name, but in this moment Dawnpaw felt like a warrior. The ginger she-cat was older and tougher and realized that she had to fend for herself now. There was no Sootclaw down here, no Thickfur, and now she had cast away Shredtail as well. She was all alone and had to step up and make her own decisions. Even if her name remained the same, Dawnpaw felt like a warrior – but a warrior of what Clan? She was disconnected from ThunderClan, lost in the mists of a dark and treacherous woods.

When morning broke, Dawnpaw took a deep shuddering breath. She got to her feet, stretching out the ache in her muscles, and did a quick lap around the grove of trees she was in. There was a small stream trickling through, and once again the apprentice found herself staring at her reflection, marvelling at how drastically different it was. Her face was gaunt, her eyes hard, and her body lean and wild. Even though she couldn't see inside her head, couldn't see her mind, it felt stronger as well. The mental exhaustion was there, but she was battling it, determined to make it through this trial.

But what was next? Dawnpaw had to figure out what to do. She couldn't just stay at the StarClan border, aimlessly milling around, hoping for a glimpse of Branchpaw and waiting for some miracle to allow her to cross over. And while she hated to admit it, Shredtail had known what to do. He had been prepared to help her, to show her the way, when she had gone too far inside his mind. Shredtail had been left vulnerable and Dawnpaw disgusted at the thought that her guide, her only help, had been one of the most evil cats at all.

But Shredtail must have known he and Worm would never be able to cross over into StarClan. There had been no hope that they could escape the Dark Forest. The redemption they spoke of – it had been a moral one. They couldn't save their bodies, but they could save their hearts, and they were willing to put themselves in danger to do the right thing. As angry as she was that Shredtail had deceived her, Dawnpaw couldn't deny his good intentions. Whoever he and Worm had been in the past, they were trying to change and help her. She would be foolish to reject the help they offered. They hadn't betrayed her so far, and she needed to have faith in them.

But Dawnpaw had cast them away and there was only one way to find them again. The Dark Forest was vast and endless in its intricacies, and there was no way Dawnpaw would be able to navigate it well enough to encounter her guides. Instead, she would have to venture back into her mind, something the ginger she-cat was extremely reluctant to do. The last time... well, things hadn't worked out so well. She hadn't been able to control herself and she had scarred both herself and Shredtail.

And yet it was the only way.

If what Shredtail said was true, that she could reach any mind, it had tremendous implications. A whole new world would be opened up to her and Sootclaw. For a brief moment, Dawnpaw wondered what it would be like inside Thickfur's mind. To live with all that anger and bitterness... she had hated him for so long, but she had been selfish. The pain of killing Branchpaw, the way she had hated herself while fully understanding it had been the only way... she wondered what Thickfur had gone through that had made him that way. After all Dawnpaw had been through, after everything she had seen, it was ridiculous to think that cats could just be unconditionally good or bad or nice and mean.

And cats changed.

Shredtail had changed.

She needed to find him.

Settling in a sheltered spot, Dawnpaw drew herself in and closed her eyes. She pictured herself standing in the darkness, a frail ginger she-cat, except now her limbs rippled with muscle and her amber eyes were hard as stone. Idly, she wondered if Sootclaw would recognize her, or if anyone would. Then she dismissed the thought, knowing she needed to concentrate. The she-cat tensed her whole body and focused her mind, searching for that one spot in the darkness where Shredtail's mind glowed bright. It wasn't too hard to find, but trying to reach it felt like swimming through mud, the darkness around her heavy and viscous. Her whole body resisted, as if trying to say that her mind belonged to Sootclaw and Sootclaw alone, but she preserved and manage to touch the frayed edges of her mind with the glowing spark that was Shredtail. There was a jolt and then they were connected, and Dawnpaw felt full again.

There was a strange intimacy about their mindlink that she had to navigate as delicately as possible. It was nothing like her link with Sootclaw; there was no sense of need and belonging and immediacy, but sharing a mind was not something one did without feeling some sort of attachment. Dawnpaw didn't want to feel attached or _intimate_ with Shredtail, but the rawness of their connection couldn't be denied, and she took care to hide herself from his mind as they connected.

_Hello_, she said, probing the waters.

He must not have felt her attach, as his answer sounded surprised. _Dawnpaw?_

She paused and gathered her words, knowing an apology was in order. _I'm sorry for what I said. I – I do need your help. I can't do this by myself. I need you to continue to teach me about this power I have, and how to use it._

There was a long silence and then she felt Shredtail grunt in acknowledgement. _I can do that. Dawnpaw, I told you, I'm not good. I was one of the worst. But I've been here too long and I'm sick of it. That wasn't a lie._

_I wish you had told me from the beginning. I wish you'd been honest_, she said. It felt weird, speaking this way to someone who wasn't Sootclaw. Shredtail's voice was harsh and unfamiliar in her mind. It felt wrong there. She didn't want it. She wanted Sootclaw. She _needed _Sootclaw.

_Really? If I told you I had trained Thistleclaw – would you have come with me?_ Shredtail asked.

Dawnpaw mused on that. It was a good point. She wouldn't have understood – she had been scared enough of Shredtail as it was. _You were the only hope I had_, she pointed out.

_I didn't want to risk it_, he said. _You're important, you and Sootclaw._

Important. Dawnpaw didn't want to be important. In an ideal world, none of this would ever have happened. She would have ended up with Elmheart, would have been an average member of ThunderClan, would have had a loving brother beside her the whole time... being normal would have been fine. _I don't want to be important_. Normal meant she would never have killed Branchpaw. It meant she would never have ended up down here.

_Without you, Falconswoop would have taken over ShadowClan, _Shredtail told her. _You don't get a choice_.

She sighed. It was true. StarClan had needed someone to give Sootclaw strength. But why her? Why not anyone else? It didn't seem fair.

Shredtail spoke again. _You didn't get in to StarClan._

Dawnpaw shook her head, even though she knew he couldn't see her. A few moons ago she might have felt silly, sitting here alone and yet absorbed in conversation, but now she was used to it. It was familiar and comforting and she could almost pretend it was Sootclaw in her mind. _They couldn't let me in_, she told him. _The whole exchange thing. For every action, an equal reaction._

She waited for anger and disappointment on his side, but there was only quiet acknowledgement. _I thought this might happen_, Shredtail admitted. _It's alright Dawnpaw. There's still another way._

_What_? She asked.

_I'll tell you when we see you_, Shredtail replied. _Where are you?_

_ I'm still near StarClan. I'm by a stream, in a grove._ Dawnpaw cringed a little, knowing it was a bad description.

Luckily Shredtail seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. _Follow the stream_, he instructed. _It will lead you to a copse of pines where the middle one has fallen across. We will meet you there. It shouldn't take long_.

_Thank you_, said Dawnpaw, knowing she had made a mistake leaving them and was relieved that Shredtail was ready to forgive her so easily.

He grunted.

_Can I ask you one more thing ? _Dawnpaw thought to him, recalling how she had watched him mentor Thistleclaw. _About what I saw?_

Shredtail tensed, but after a long pause, consented. _What?_

_ When you were mentoring Thistleclaw... why were you so cruel to him? Is that just a general Dark Forest thing, or...? _Dawnpaw was aware of how ridiculous she sounded, but she was thinking about Thickfur now. The grey tabby had always confused her, how he switched from being harsh to kind, from belittling to understanding.

_Well, yes, _said Shredtail, who seemed reluctantly bemused by her question and was trying to hide it under his rough attitude. _Dawnpaw, you have to understand... cats go bad for a reason. We're all the same, in a way. We're cruel mentors because that's how we learned to be strong – by being hurt. By pain and hatred._

So was Thickfur just trying to make her strong? Dawnpaw mused on that for a moment before she realized that Shredtail was waiting for her to speak again, and she knew that she needed to find him and Worm again. _Alright_, she said. _I'm on my way._

_._

As she followed the stream, Dawnpaw tried to walk with purpose. Sitting outside StarClan, she had held a silent vigil and allowed her mind to breathe, to take the weariness and turn it into a new energy. Now, however, she let her mind wander as she attempted to figure out exactly how she had gotten here. She had spent the past moon wandering the Dark Forest, helpless, and even though she still needed Shredtail and Worm, she was going to be strong. But part of her was still lost and she needed to understand who she was.

She felt Shredtail at the edge of her memory, patiently observing, and after what she had done to him, Dawnpaw felt like it would be wrong to kick him out. Her feet carried her along the bank of the stream, but her mind wandered, remembering all of those important moments of her life, moments she had let lose importance over the past few moons.

Being a kit with Branchkit... with two older parents who had become elders shortly after, the two kits had been inseparable, even for siblings. Though she had become fast friends with Elmkit, who had left the nursery not long after her birth, she had always considered Branchpaw her best friend. When he started becoming distant, she had been two preoccupied with Sootclaw to notice.

And then there was Thickfur. She remembered her apprentice ceremony, where Thickfur had looked down at her with reassuring eyes and she had believed that everything would be alright. That hope soon turned to dust when she realized everything she did would irritate Thickfur in some strange way. After a moon of that and telling all of her worries to Elmpaw, blissfully unaware of his feelings, everything had changed. Dawnpaw had scented fox.

Then it had been Sootpaw. She had resented him at first, resented him for being successful, and yet she had been too eager to butt into his life, pushing him to accept Kitepaw and stop blindly idolizing Falconswoop. Dawnpaw hadn't considered her role that important, and yet Sootclaw had said that she had done _everything. _It seemed a little ridiculous, that she had spent so long harping on about the power of love, but that was who she was. Who she had been.

Dawnpaw had been so idealistic, to believe that love and faith could solve everything. After what happened with Falconswoop, her worldview had just been reinforced. But killing Branchpaw... it was an act of violence as well as love, the two things so intimately twisted that she felt queasy even thinking about it. It had introduced her to the darker side of love. Things couldn't always be pretty. There had to be sacrifice.

So where did that leave her? She wanted to believe, but it was so hard. She had been here for so long... Dawnpaw was starting to forget who she was. Whoever she was now, it felt drastically different than the she-cat who had first felt her mindlink with Sootclaw. And she should have felt scared, but for some reason, she didn't. Despite the tremble in her chest, she felt brave.

Shredtail listened, silent, but she felt him hum against her, and it made her uncomfortable, to share all these thoughts with him. She regarded him almost as a mentor, as a cat she didn't like but had to respect, but having the mindlink made her feel other ways about him... it made her want to be close to him. To understand and forgive and love. She didn't like Shredtail, she knew it was just their connection speaking, but... it made Dawnpaw worried. Did she only love Sootclaw because of the link? Were her feelings real, or were they created by StarClan when they had placed pieces of the two inside each other.

_Sootclaw is brave_, she thought, closing her eyes tightly. _He is strong and caring and he would do anything for his Clan, or for Kitetail. _He could be rude and impatient, could be oblivious, but he had a good heart. Dawnpaw had felt it and she loved it, she was sure. Even if his feelings were for someone else.

_It sounds like you care a lot about Sootclaw_, thought Shredtail.

Dawnpaw winced. _It's none of your business._

_ Look_, he continued, _I don't know if it's the link or not that makes you feel that way. But your feelings are what make you strong. I've been watching – we've all been watching; the fate of everything hangs on this after all – and that's what got you and Sootclaw through. It's what's going to get you through the trials to come._

_Do you know what's ahead? _Dawnpaw asked. _What they have planned next?_

_ I know some_, he said. _Not everything. Not what comes after this. I'll tell you when we meet._

She frowned, confused. _Why are you complimenting me – why are you saying these things?_

_ Do you think you'd succeed if I insulted you and brought you down? _Shredtail let out a mirthless laugh that echoed through her mind. _But I am telling the truth. If I thought you were useless I wouldn't bother trying to help._

Feelings. That's what made her strong. Shredtail put into words what she had been starting to realize. She had known before, a long time ago, but down in the Dark Forest she had seen that only physical strength and violence were respected. That was how she had to survive down here, and it was wearing her down. Figuring out how to balance these two things – it was probably the way to succeed.

_Almost there_, she told him, changing the subject. In front of her, a group of pines were visible and through the branches she could make out the outline of a fallen one. Her connection with Shredtail seemed to pulsate as she neared the grove, the spark of his mind growing brighter until –

He cut it off. Dawnpaw let out a gasp, not expecting to feel as though the air had been forced out of her. She stumbled a bit before catching herself, feeling a moment of pain and emptiness, before her body readjusted. It wasn't like she had lost Sootclaw. She was alright.

Dawnpaw padded into the grove, sighting Shredtail and Worm sitting together over a scrawny mouse that they offered her upon seeing her. Shredtail had a carefully neutral expression on his face, though she noticed that his cold anger seemed to be gone. Worm looked interested, and his eyes followed her as she moved across the clearing. There was something unnerving in them – envy, perhaps?

"You smell like StarClan," said Worm, curling his lip, and his voice was wistful. He was jealous of her closeness to them, jealous of her _life_, and when Dawnpaw finally realized that it nearly broke her heart.

She didn't know how to respond so she just turned to Shredtail. "What does the Dark Forest have planned next?"

The massive brown tom chuckled bleakly. "Not wasting any time, are you?" When Dawnpaw didn't answer, he continued: "You know about the darkness in WindClan, taking over them, causing to obey the whims of the Dark Forest, the Place of No Stars. And I told you, that you and Sootclaw have the power to access others minds, if you just focus hard enough."

Dawnpaw nodded. "And?"

Shredtail snorted. "Put it together."

There was a long moment of silence as Dawnpaw thought it through. The ginger she-cat felt like she knew the answer, but it scared her to vocalize it. "Sootclaw would... Sootclaw would have to get it out of them, somehow." She didn't know _how_, as she wasn't sure the limits of their power, but she knew the darkness wouldn't just vanish. It would have to go somewhere. "But that darkness would..."

"Go in him, yes," said Shredtail quietly. "It would be – "

"A sacrifice," finished Dawnpaw. "But he could handle it. Sootclaw has dealt with many demons already, this would be nothing new, this..."

"This is different," the tom told her gently. "But it would save the Clans, at least for now, giving you time to deal with whatever Thistleclaw tries next. After this... StarClan and the Dark Forest won't be dancing around each other anymore. There will be a battle, and you have to be there for it. StarClan gave you this power and so you have to be their champion."

But Dawnpaw couldn't think about that right now. All she could think of was Sootclaw with that darkness inside of him. "Are you saying... that Sootclaw will die? If he dies... he's one of StarClan's so-called champions too, isn't he? Don't we need him?"

"I don't know what will happen to him," said Shredtail patiently, as if he were explaining this to a kit. "And he was. He did what he needed to – he stopped Falconswoop."

It was too much for her to handle. "I don't – I don't want to think about this, I can't..."

"You have to," Shredtail urged, coming closer to her. She was suddenly acutely aware of his presence and his scent, hypersensitive to him after their minds had touched, and Dawnpaw shrank away. She felt scared again, weaker than before, but determined to make it through. She didn't want to be here with Shredtail, with his mangy fur and cold eyes. She wanted to be with Sootclaw and his laugh and his musky, ShadowClan smell. Shredtail didn't seem perturbed by her reaction and continued to speak. "You need to reach Sootclaw and tell him that WindClan will attack, and tell him what he has to do."

"How?" asked Dawnpaw. "I mean, I reached him before, but barely – it was so difficult, I was almost lost, and I didn't have much time."

He nodded, as if he had been expecting her question. "StarClan swapped pieces of you in order to forge your connection and make it stronger than the Dark Forest could overcome. Even now, you could still reach it. I didn't think you were ready before – it's dangerous – but now I think you can do it."

"Tell me how," she demanded.

Shredtail nodded again. "Don't look for him outside your mind. Don't go out past those edges. Look inside, deep inside. It's not easy. Dealing with yourself, it's harder than dealing with others. But he's there, buried."

Dawnpaw swallowed hard. It sounded easy, sounded _safe_, but she knew what Shredtail meant about danger. If she wasn't in the process of figuring herself out, of understanding who she was, she might have been scared to try. But now she was ready. "I need space," she told them, gaze switching from Shredtail's intense stare to Worm's envious one. Then she took a step backward.

"I'll scout around, make sure we're safe," said Worm suddenly, darting away from them. Dawnpaw watched him go, then looked back at Shredtail, that same impassive look on his face.

She closed her eyes.

Instead of travelling out to the darkness, instead of standing on the frayed filaments of the border of her mind, she let herself be pulled inward. Her consciousness was a river and she was letting herself drown, letting herself fall under the dark, cold water. Every instinct in her body screamed to _kick_, to stay afloat, and though she tried to repress them she ended up doing it anyway. Dawnpaw's eyes shot open and she let out her breath. Her body did not want her in her subconscious. She knew if she let herself fall underwater, she might never come back up.

But she had to try.

This time, when the urge came to fight, she tensed every muscle in her body and locked them in place. The water closed over her head and she stopped being able to breath. Her body screamed from the lack of oxygen, but she could do this. She just had to concentrate. She wasn't really drowning – this wasn't _real_, she could control it.

Dawnpaw opened her eyes underwater and saw only black. But Sootclaw was in here somewhere, waiting for her. Out of the dark, images floated by her, thoughts she had repressed. Branchpaw convulsing, the way Elmheart's face had fallen when she had rejected him, the way Sootclaw felt about Lilystream... she didn't want to deal with these things. She wanted Branchpaw to be alive, she wanted Elmheart to be her friend, she wanted Sootclaw to _love_ her. Dawnpaw faced it and passed by.

More images floated by and she saw herself, small and scared and alone, stranded in the darkness. This was who she was, but she could be more.

And then she saw him, just a fragment, but he was there and she recognized his energy. Without fear, she charged straight in, letting that little spark of light envelop her. There was a rush, and then a click as everything slid back into place, and her heart leapt as the familiar feeling of _connection_ leapt through her, and it was a hundred times better than her link with Shredtail.

Dawnpaw felt _home_.

Sootclaw's mind vibrated against hers. There was a sense they were both holding their breath, revelling in the feeling of the link fully returning, and Dawnpaw didn't know what to say. This was everything she had wanted. Sootclaw was here, rumbling beside her, his hopes and dreams and love all flowing through her.

There was no need for words. They let their feelings speak for themselves as they flooded into each other. Her whole body trembled. Dawnpaw knew, even if it was just the link causing these feelings, that she was now complete and that she needed him. And yet – there was one thing she held back: her feelings. She knew how he felt about Lilystream, and she knew he wouldn't reciprocate. She had fallen for him, and while he loved her, it wasn't the way she wanted.

_Hi_, she said at last.

_How did you find me?_ Sootclaw asked in a trembling whisper.

She wanted to smile but it wasn't right. _Looking inside myself._

Sootclaw frowned and she felt him desperately hoping to believe. _Are you here... for good?_

_ Yes_, said Dawnpaw, barely able to contain her excitement. Their minds were melded and everything was right again. She was whole. _Sootclaw, there's a lot I want to say, but there's something important first. You have to listen to me._

_ Okay_, he said, and she loved how he was so blindly willing to trust her. Dawnpaw pictured him, his muscular grey body and those smoky amber eyes, and knew that for the great warrior he was now, there had been a scared apprentice she had helped save.

_It's about WindClan_, she said. _I told you about the darkness in them, but... you have to take it out._

_ What?_ He was confused._ How?_

_Our mindlink... when StarClan gave it to us, they made it so we could access other minds as well. Not as easily, but it can be done. You need to use this to save WindClan. You have to take the darkness from their minds. They're going to attack again, and this... this is the only way you can save them_, she told him. Dawnpaw wondered if he would ask what to do with the darkness, but she felt his breath hitch and felt understanding run through him.

_This is the only way?_ he said to confirm.

She nodded sadly. _Yes._

_ Okay, _said Sootclaw unsteadily. She felt him shudder. _I trust you, Dawnpaw. I – _

But he never got to finish. They were jolted from their conversation when Worm came running back into the clearing, his eyes frantic and the fur on his neck standing up. "We have to go," he hissed. "They know. They found her."

Shredtail swore loudly. "They must be able to feel the mindlink. Dawnpaw, you have to close it." He saw the look of fear in her eyes and sighed. "Not for good. But for now. You can't talk to him, not unless it's an emergency. Come on. They must be wondering how you managed to reopen the link, and to be honest, I don't want them to find out."

She just stared for a moment. The brown tabby lashed his tail as he and Worm paced around frantically. "Dawnpaw. _Now_."

_I... I have to go_, she told Sootclaw. _I can't talk, but I'm still here. I'm here and safe and I'm so glad I found you again._

_ I'm glad too,_ he told her, and that was it. Dawnpaw shut the link, trying not to show how upset she was about it, and leapt to her feet, ready to follow Shredtail.

She had found Sootclaw once more – and had already lost him. She knew he was still there, thrumming away, but it was too dangerous to talk to him. It wasn't fair, that she was so close and was still denied. All Dawnpaw wanted was to have Sootclaw again.

But for now, she ran. And as they went, she realized she had forgotten to ask Shredtail how he planned to get her out of the Dark Forest, and her stomach turned uneasily. She was sure it wouldn't be painless.

**XX XX XX**

**A/N: **Decided to finish this for NaNoWriMo this year! I've successfully completed my last five NaNos so this is definitely likely to be finished come December 1st, :) Because I'm speedwriting it, there may be some mistakes and some chapters might not be too great. It's also been a year since I last wrote about Dawnpaw and Sootclaw, so it might take me a bit to get back into their characters, hence the whole Dawnpaw character study going on this chapter. Next chapter is Sootclaw but it starts about the same time this chapter does (so before the link is back). Don't really have time to respond to reviews but just know that they are 100% appreciated! Will probably do some quick responses next chapter.

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	29. Chapter Twenty-Seven

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN**

It was a cold night, colder than Sootclaw had thought when he had slipped out of the warm sanctuary of his moss nest and made his way out of ShadowClan camp, toward the RiverClan border. It had been a fairly mild day, and he was surprised by the intensity of the chill that easily pierced through his fur and froze his skin. It was particularly bad when he exited the tall stands of pines that distinguished ShadowClan's territory and padded toward the thunderpath that separated the two territories. There was nothing here to block the wind as it howled by him, so cold he thought his bones might freeze.

Sootclaw's nightly excursions had long been a time he could reflect and find peace, heart filled with the joy of getting to see Lilystream once more. Now, however, his heart was weighed down with worry and doubt. Things had only seemed to get worse over the past moon. There was still no word from Dawnpaw, and after the heavy blizzard they had experienced, he was worried for ThunderClan. And though he had seen Kitetail recently, there had been something odd about the brown tabby's rushed goodbye that worried the ShadowClan warrior. On top of it all, Pigeonpaw was still avoiding him, and he noticed the other mentors starting to shoot him odd looks. He had no idea what to do, and the worry over Dawnpaw was starting to drive him crazy.

He hoped Lilystream would be able to provide him some solace from everything going on. Alongside his personal worries were his concerns for his Clan – what was WindClan up too? Dawnpaw had known they would attack ThunderClan, had predicted it exactly from her position in the Dark Forest. Sootclaw hoped she was alright. He had become so distracted over the past few moons, so preoccupied with Lilystream and Pigeonpaw, that he had forgotten to show her just how important she was to him. He wasn't in love with Dawnpaw, not the way he loved Lilystream, but the she-cat felt like a piece of his soul. Brambleclaw had explained that pieces of them had been placed inside each other, but Sootclaw didn't want to believe that it was just the mindlink. Dawnpaw was his friend and ally, and in some ways was a protector and mentor. They had been through so much together...

No. He couldn't think about it. Not tonight. Tonight was a time to be happy, to press himself against Lilystream and pretend they were the only two cats in the world. He remembered when he saw her for the first time, how beautiful she was, and how he had known, even as an apprentice, that he would fall in love with her. And when Sootclaw had spent his time in RiverClan, actually getting to know her... She had called him the bravest cat she knew. She had listened to his burdens and loved him regardless. Sootclaw paused in his walk, lost in a dream, wondering what would have happened if he had just stayed in RiverClan with her.

_I would be happy, but Falconswoop would have won_, he thought bitterly. _According to everyone, I'm selfish, but when I do the right thing... I lose._

He thought of Falconswoop dangling from the cliff, though of Kitetail, thought of Dawnpaw and her brother, thought of Hailstripe and how mercilessly StarClan had required his death. Sootclaw had saved his mentor from the fox, but he had died anyway, died because things just weren't fair. The smoky grey tom gritted his teeth. His claws were out, digging into the powdery snow beneath them.

The cold snow beneath him gradually turned into cold rock as he reached the Thunderpath and crossed over to the small little grassy area that technically belonged to neither side. The tom took a few deep breaths, needing to calm himself. He felt like he was drowning. There was too much going on, too much weight on his shoulders, and he needed Dawnpaw. She would know what to do.

Sootclaw took in the cold air as he waited for Lilystream. As he exhaled, he watched his breath rise through the air before dissipating into the snow. A few flakes of snow fell idly through the air, landing on his muzzle. Part of him ached to be that young apprentice again, confident and self-assured and scared of nothing.

Then the reeds in front of him parted and that wish vanished instantly as Lilystream appeared, her beauty taking his breath away. Moonlight played on her grey-blue pelt, and her eyes twinkled lovingly at him as she approached him. As an apprentice, she had been funny and kind and graceful, but as a warrior and queen her grace had developed into a quiet elegance that captivated him. Sootclaw only hoped he was good enough to deserve her.

"Hello, you," she mewed quietly, stepping forward to press her muzzle against his. Wreathed by her scent, Sootclaw could do nothing but purr against her, and yet when they stepped back he was almost sad. They saw each other so rarely that it felt like there was never enough time to say all they wanted. They used to sit for hours and talk – she had told him all about her family, about her apprenticeship, her hopes and dreams and fear, and he had spoken of Falconswoop and Kitetail and Hailstripe, of his own dreams and fears. Now they just tried to take comfort in each other.

"Hello," said Sootclaw, twitching his whiskers. "How are you?"

"Better now that I'm with you," said Lilystream softly, twining her whole body with his. Sootclaw held his breath, almost trembling, knowing how blessed he was just to be here with her. Yet something about this moment still felt strange to him; he felt disconnected with her, far away, and he knew it was because of all the burdens on him. "I missed you."

"I always miss you," he said, and grinned. "What's the saying? Hate to see you go but I love to watch you leave?"

"You dog!" Lilystream said, flicking him with her tail, but she returned his grin and didn't move from his side.

Sootclaw relented. "You know I don't mean it. I never want you to go," he mewed, licking her cheek as he turned to face the lake. The sight of it covered in ice always depressed him. Some dark, angry part of him just wanted to break it all up. "Remember when you taught me to fish?"

"You were surprisingly good at it," said Lilystream. "I swore you were part RiverClan then."

"It would have been nice, to stay," Sootclaw admitted. It was a sentiment he had expressed before. "To be able to be there with you and the kits, to have everyone know just how much I love you."

"I know," she mewed. "Maybe one day, things will work out."

"Maybe," he agreed. "I don't know how, but maybe." It would be so nice, to stay with her, to watch his kits grow up and teach them to hunt. He wondered if Toadstar would like him – he imagined moons of trying to win the older tom over, but they would be moons where Sootclaw enjoyed every second.

He pulled back to look her in the eyes. "How are the kits, by the way?"

Lilystream lit up. "They're great," she mewed. "Oh, Sootclaw, they're so wonderful. I wish you were there to see them. They listen and they love to learn, and Hazelthorn is so good with them..."

That name jarred him from his blissful state. "What's Hazelthorn got to do with this?" Sootclaw didn't have a lot of experience with the brown-and-white RiverClan warrior, but he had never really liked him.

Lilystream hesitated, as if realizing she had transgressed, and then she spoke slowly, as if choosing her words extremely carefully. "Hazelthorn has agreed... to pretend to be the father."

"Pretend to be the – " Sootclaw cut himself off in disgust. It worried him to think that Hazelthorn might have feelings for Lilystream. What other reason would he have to do this. "What? No. That's not alright." They would have to put on an act, have to spend time together, have to cuddle and be close... He couldn't stand the thought.

"Sootclaw, please," she said, half-pleading, half-insistent. "We both know it's the best option. I should never have taken them to meet you – Icekit let slip that his father was a ShadowClan warrior. I pretended it was a game they were playing and it was fine, but I _needed_ someone to step in and claim them."

"Oh, so do they think Hazelthorn is their father now?" Sootclaw asked. "Do they think I'm just a game?" When Lilystream didn't answer, he began to panic, and he lashed his tail out in frustration. "These are my kits! You can't just do that – I'm their _father_, I have to be there for them."

"Come on!" she said angrily. "They can't know. They'll just have a vague memory of meeting you; they'll think it was a dream. It's better for them to think they're full RiverClan than half-Clan, or have a mysterious father. Hazelthorn can be there for them."

"Hazelthorn can be there for them," Sootclaw repeated flatly, as if daring her to finish her thought.

Lilystream took a deep breath. "Hazelthorn can be there for them and you can't."

That hurt Sootclaw more than anything else in the world. Hazelthorn could be there for Lilystream and he couldn't. He couldn't do _anything_. "Do you love him?" he asked.

To her credit, she looked disgusted and perplexed by the question. "Of course not," snapped Lilystream. "I love _you_, you idiot. But I have to do what's best for these kits."

Sootclaw ignored the last part of her sentence. Blood was rushing to his head and pounding in his ears, and his temper was threatening to overtake him. He wished Dawnpaw was there to calm him, but he had kept his relationship with Lilystream private from her and now had no idea what she would have said. "What about me?" he asked – no, _snarled_ – at her. "My own mate, betraying me."

The grey tom was not prepared for what happened next. Lilystream drew herself up to her full size, which was only slightly smaller than him, and stared him down. "Not everything is about you, Sootclaw," she said quietly, calmly, coldly. "I love you, but sometimes I feel like you don't really care about _me_ – like you only care about how you feel. You love that I'm some beautiful, elegant she-cat who listens to you and loves you and respects you. But when it comes to what I want, what I _need_, you only think of yourself."

Her words stunned him, and deep inside, Sootclaw wondered if it was true. She had always supported him, had calmed him and listened to his worries, and now he realized how selfish and shallow he had been. Sootclaw loved the way she made him _feel_, the way her beauty made him tremble, the way she cleansed his heart of burden, but...

Having Hazelthorn pretend to be the father _was_ the best thing for the kits.

He knew it.

"Do you really love me, Sootclaw?" asked Lilystream. Her voice had emotion again, and it was a deep sorrow that threatened to crack his heart in two.

_Of course I do_. He had believed it for so long. She was divine and he was some mortal lucky enough to have drawn her love. But now, Sootclaw was starting to doubt it, and as he stared at her he ran out of words.

"I should go," she said sadly.

And he could do nothing but watch her leave. Lilystream cast him a parting glance, her eyes devastated, and Sootclaw finally found his voice. "Wait!" he said.

She waited.

She waited and he had nothing to say. Not like last time, where he had promised he would return to her, where he had _known_. Sootclaw couldn't make any promises.

So he was silent and she left.

.

The next morning, Sootclaw refused to move from his nest. The sun came up and the ShadowClan warriors around him emerged from the den, ready to face the day, but Sootclaw was sullen. He was upset and heartbroken, and more than anything else, he was angry at himself. Lilystream had been right to say what she did. It seemed like no matter what he did, no matter how he tried, the grey tom was always going to be selfish. He could try to fight it, but evidently it was just in his nature.

He loved Lilystream. He really did. He knew it now, but it was too late to tell her, though he wished he could run back and shout it across RiverClan territory. Sootclaw loved her, but he was coming to the realization he might not have loved her right.

The grey warrior flopped over in his nest. The day was nearly as cold as the night, and he had no desire to move from his comfortable bed. Outside he could hear the whistle of the wind through camp, barely broken by the camp walls, as well as the yelling of kits as they bounded around in the clearing, apparently unfazed by the cold.

Sootclaw tilted his head to peer outside, where he saw Hailkit trying to calmly break up a scuffle between Streakkit and Fennelkit, who were arguing over which one of them was the better fighter. Potential shone in every one of the white kit's movements, and Sootclaw remembered wishing that Hailkit had been his apprentice instead of Pigeonpaw. Now, however, Sootclaw was glad he wouldn't be able to mentor the former deputy's son. Hailkit deserved a mentor who would be one hundred percent dedicated.

_Pigeonpaw_.

He had to do something about it, and with a great sight, Sootclaw heaved himself from his nest and padded out into the clearing. Despite his bad mood, ShadowClan camp still felt like home, and the feel of loam under his paws and the sight of the pine trees towering over him always managed to improve his mood.

He sighted Redfur, who was sitting and watching Hailkit with a proud look on her face. Her eyes were weary, but she still managed to have energy as she greeted him. "Hello, Sootclaw," she mewed.

"Hullo," he groaned, still tired. It was ridiculous to think that he had once been jealous of Redfur for becoming deputy. Sootclaw used to pretend that he would have made a better one, and while he had been the one to stop Falconswoop, there was no way he could cope with all the responsibility that Redfur now had on her shoulders. "Do you know where Eaglestar is?"

Redfur nodded. "In his den," she said, flicking her tail toward it.

The grey tom mumbled a thanks and padded off toward it. His plan was simple: he would apologize for being a bad mentor, emphasize that he would do better now, and ask Eaglestar to maybe have a talk with Pigeonpaw on his behalf.

Reaching the moss curtain at the entrance to the leader's den, Sootclaw hesitated. "Hi, Eaglestar," he mewed. "Can I enter?"

There was a pause and the sound of moss ruffling, and then Eaglestar appeared, pushing away the moss. "Come on in," he said, shepherding Sootclaw inside.

Sootclaw had always coveted the leader's den, with its fancy entrance and high walls and feeling of warmth and comfort even in the harshest of leafbares. During the blizzard, Eaglestar had let the kits and the elders all stay in his den to avoid the cold. It was an incredibly selfless thing, and Sootclaw liked to think he would have done the same, but he was doubting himself now more than ever before.

"What's on your mind?" asked Eaglestar in that amiable, comforting rumble that always made Sootclaw feel welcome. Eaglestar was, beyond a doubt, a fantastic leader.

Sootclaw took a deep breath. "It's about Pigeonpaw," he began. The golden tabby in front of him nodded silently, as if he had been anticipating that. Sootclaw shuffled uncomfortably from paw to paw. "I know I've been a bad mentor, Eaglestar. I've been distracted, I... know he asked to switch mentors but I promise I'll try harder from now on."

Eaglestar nodded. "I believe you meant no harm, Sootclaw, but why are you telling me this?"

Sootclaw was confused. "Well, because... you're the leader, and you decide mentors."

The tabby-masked tom sighed. "I meant why aren't you telling _him_ this?"

_Oh_. Sootclaw wasn't really sure to say. "He won't listen, Eaglestar, he hates me."

The ShadowClan leader narrowed his eyes. "You're his mentor. Of course he's angry, but he will listen to you. You just have to try."

That hadn't really been what Sootclaw was expecting. The tom had hoped that Eaglestar could just magically solve this problem, but he was rapidly realizing that had been a very, very distant possibility. Eaglestar was right, though – this was something he had to do himself. "Oh. Okay. Yeah," was all he managed to say. "Well, thank you for your time."

He turned to leave when Eaglestar's calm voice cut through the air. "Wait, Sootclaw." When the warrior turned back around to face him, Eaglestar continued. "I would not have chosen you to mentor Pigeonpaw if I didn't think you were capable, and I didn't bring these issues up to you because I knew you would figure it out for yourself. But Pigeonpaw is my son, and if you don't fix this – if you continue to make him feel inadequate and disappointing – I will know, and I will _not_ be happy."

Those words chilled him. Sootclaw hated feeling as though he had disappointed Eaglestar, and then a jolt of realization went through him – this was how Pigeonpaw felt when Sootclaw was cruel to him. It was how Dawnpaw felt whenever Thickfur got irritated.

_I'm like Thickfur_, he thought, and it terrified him.

Okay. He could do this. What made a good mentor? He still needed to be strong, to be in control, to be able to correct Pigeonpaw when he made mistakes. But he also needed to be able to admit his own mistakes, to respect the apprentice, and to have a little faith in him.

As he exited the den, something changed.

His world shifted.

Everything seemed to blur for a moment, but when it locked into place he felt like he could finally see for the first time in moons. He felt his heart begin to race and then, like a bolt sliding into place, his mind _clicked_ and suddenly there was another mind beside it.

Dawnpaw.

At first he didn't believe it. She had been gone for so long, and he had almost started to think that there previous conversation had been there last. But she was here now, and he could feel the gentleness of her mind as it pressed against his, except now something was _different_. Her mind was harder and it scared him a little, but he was so overjoyed to have her back he didn't want to ask questions.

_Hi_, she said.

His heart leapt. It was really her! Sootclaw wanted to say so many things, wanted to ask for her advice on everything, but he had to contain himself. There would be a chance for everything in due time. _How did you find me?_

_ Looking inside myself_, she replied cryptically. He supposed it made sense – if StarClan put pieces of them inside each other, there must be a connection within their own minds as well as outside.

_Are you here for good?_ It was what he needed to know.

_Yes_, Dawnpaw told him, and his heart leapt again, filled with joy. She was back, she was back! She would know what to do. Everything was going to be alright. But as she continued to speak, her voice grim, his excitement began to fade. _Sootclaw, there's a lot I want to say, but there's something important first. You have to listen to me._

_ Okay_, he said, because he would always listen to her. He might be selfish, but not around Dawnpaw. He couldn't be – he wouldn't do that to her.

_ It's about WindClan_, she said, explaining about the darkness.

_What?_ Sootclaw asked.

Dawnpaw took a deep breath and launched into an explanation, telling him how he could use his powers to remove the darkness from their minds and save them. Sootclaw immediately wanted to ask where he would put the darkness, but the answer was abhorrently clear. He wanted to cry out and resist, but he thought about what Lilystream and Pigeonpaw said, thought about how selfish he was, and how he could at least to do this. He could save lives. He didn't know what would happen to his own, but it didn't matter. It _couldn't_ matter.

_This is the only way?_

_ Yes_, she said sadly.

_Okay_, he said, his stomach dropping. _I trust you, Dawnpaw_. He trusted her with every fibre of his body and even though this new, harder, darker Dawnpaw scared him in a way, he knew what she had been through and he could not contain his respect for her. He had to tell her. He had to explain to her just how much she meant, just how glad he was to find her again. _I – _

But something in her mind jolted and he was cut off. Dawnpaw's mind slipped away and he could feel the frantic energy as she communicated with someone beside her. When she returned to him, it was only to tell him she had to leave. He wanted to cry, but – it wasn't for good, she had said. It wasn't for good.

_I'm glad too_, he said, and then she was gone. She was gone and he was all alone once more. He had been so excited to talk to Dawnpaw again and she had been torn away for him, and it was worse than not talking to her at all. It was getting a taste of what would heal him and have the medicine ripped from his paws.

_I love you_, he thought, though he knew she couldn't hear him, because he would have been too afraid to tell her otherwise. He didn't love her romantically like he loved Lilystream, didn't desire her in the same way, but he loved her wholly and honestly and unashamedly and he had no idea how he had survived without her for so long.

He blinked away sorrow. He couldn't dwell on this.

He had other things to do.

.

It was later that day when he finally found Pigeonpaw. The spiky-furred tom was lying at the edge of camp, listlessly picking at a lizard he must have caught earlier. He looked up as Sootclaw arrived and immediately looked away again. It had been awhile since Sootclaw had tried to approach him and the grey tom felt uncomfortable, not sure what to say.

"What do you want?" asked his apprentice sullenly, pushing the prey back and forth between his paws. He seemed tired, no longer filled with the angry energy that had reverberated through him as he finally stood up to his mentor. Sootclaw was starting to see that he wasn't just an annoying apprentice – just because his best was below average, it didn't mean he wasn't trying it. And besides, who knew how much the grey and white tom could actually accomplish if Sootclaw just supported him a little.

Sootclaw took a seat beside him, wrapping his tail neatly around his paws and trying not to show his complete nervousness. He had a mental image of Pigeonpaw as some sassy, plump apprentice, but the young tom in front of him was worn and lean and simply exhausted. "I wanted to apologize, first of all," he began slowly.

Pigeonpaw just shrugged. "Whatever."

"No, it's not whatever," said Sootclaw, stern but not unkind. "I'm your mentor and I've let you down. I never meant to make you feel like a disappointment, Pigeonpaw. I know what that's like – yes, don't give me that look, I do. My father was harsh and always expected the best of me, and it overshadowed even my own mentor's patience, and it's really all I know. Sometimes I worry I'm too much like him, too selfish." He hadn't meant to spill this much of himself to Pigeonpaw, but he was feeling vulnerable and the words just came tumbling out as if he were speaking to Dawnpaw. "My point is – I only wanted you to do well, but now I'm realizing I went about it in the wrong way. You don't have to be the best at hunting or fighting to be a great warrior – you just have to _care_, and I know I might not have noticed when you did."

He paused and took a deep breath. "So I'm sorry. I'll do better from now on."

Pigeonpaw was silent for a long time, still picking at that lizard, refusing to meet Sootclaw's eyes. "You mean it?" he muttered eventually, his voice wounded and mistrustful. Sootclaw knew that the young tom had every reason to disbelieve him.

Sootclaw nodded. "I do. And I know I've just opened up to you here, but – I'm still your mentor. If you respect me, I will respect you. I promise."

Another pause and then Pigeonpaw nodded. "Alright," he said, voice slightly less sullen than before, as if he were daring to hope.

Sootclaw felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He remembered, just moons ago, watching the tom tumble around the nursery with his siblings. Now he seemed so grown up. Sootclaw had underestimated how quickly change could happen – Dawnpaw had only been six moons when everything had happened, yet she had been so mature. He should have had more faith in Pigeonpaw.

He blinked warmly. "Well, how about we go out training tomorrow morning then?" he asked. He would have liked to go now, but it was getting dark out and he saw how tired Pigeonpaw was.

"We still have time today," said Pigeonpaw, almost shyly.

Sootclaw was surprised but impressed. "Are you sure?"

"Of course," mewed the apprentice stubbornly, getting to his paws. "I'm restless. Let's go."

Following his apprentice out of camp, Sootclaw could only marvel at everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. His relationship with Lilystream had shattered into pieces, he had found and lost Dawnpaw, and now things were reconciled with Pigeonpaw. It had been a rollercoaster of a day.

And as happy as he was to train Pigeonpaw again, he couldn't help feel that this wouldn't last long. WindClan was going to attack soon, and he had to be ready. His heart lurched as he watched his apprentice's moving frame. What if he couldn't keep the promises he had made Pigeonpaw? And what if he never got a chance to tell Lilystream how sorry he was?

What if this was it for him?

** XX XX XX**

**A/N:** Hey again! Not much to say. Hit about 10k with these two chapters - so I might be a few chapters short of finishing KotS when I do hit 50k on my NaNo but I should get them done not long after (Christmas break! Woo!)

Getting back into Sootclaw's head! Next chapter is Fogpaw, escaping at last, and I'm so excited to start writing it tomorrow! Then back to ThunderClan (though my outline is subject to change.)

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, glad to know you are still interested in the story :) Sorry it's so bad right now, writing in a hurry for NaNo doesn't lend itself to great writing but I tried to look it over and fix typos!

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	30. Chapter Twenty-Eight

**CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT**

It was night when the two apprentices crossed over into RiverClan territory. Fogpaw led the way, her heart leaping with excitement, desperate to be reunited with her Clan once more. Stripedpaw followed behind her, stumblingly over every obstruction that seemed to be in his way. He was slowing her down, turning what should have been a joyous race into a painful march. Fogpaw hadn't realized just how malnourished the young tabby was. His eyes were sunken back into his skull and his bones were painfully obvious underneath his dull fur. Fogpaw was worn too, but she had dealt with it by growing strong, while Stripedpaw had seemed content to just waste away.

The grey she-cat had broken off their mindlink the second she felt it was safe. She hated being in Stripedpaw's mind, hated feeling connected to him, though even outside of it she was still able to hear his thoughts as they whirled around. Fogpaw didn't like the beige tabby. He was scared and selfish, and in a way she pitied him for his weakness. She had been in a terrible situation too, kidnapped for a moon and forced to endure torture, but she had emerged resolute, and it was hard for her to understand why Stripedpaw might not have done the same thing.

Another cat that she probably should have had respect for was Thornfur. Before the darkness, he had been a strong and loyal warrior, competent enough to be named deputy of his Clan. After the initial sadness at his death, and the knowledge she had _killed_ him, Fogpaw had found herself becoming numb to it. She had needed to survive, after all. And what if there was no other way to stop WindClan? What if there was no way to remove the darkness?

What if they all had to die?

Fogpaw immediately stopped, eyes wide, shocked that she would even think such a thing. She was scared that her mind would jump to that, scared even more that it wasn't caused by the darkness but her own honest emotions. Oh, if only she hadn't chased that rabbit across the border... she wondered what her life would have been like if she had just stayed in RiverClan. It would have been _normal_. Everything would have been different, _everything_.

"So, what's WindClan like when it's not... like this?" she asked, trying to talk about something lighter. She wanted to hear Stripedpaw tell happy stories from his kithood.

Instead, he just shrugged. "I barely remember. It was spreading, even when I was just a kit... I haven't really had a normal life."

Fogpaw should have felt bad for him, but she didn't. _What's wrong with me?_ She wondered. Maybe she was just too exhausted to care. After seeing her family again, after a long sleep, she would feel better. She would wake up ready to tackle Stripedpaw's emotional burdens. But even looking at his face started to disgust her.

_How can I feel like this_? Fogpaw thought. Especially after everything she had told Russet, everything she had said about being a good cat. Maybe she would have been a good cat once, but she was too damaged now. Her brain felt like it was just set on survival mode.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she mewed.

"What was yours like?" asked Stripedpaw hesitantly.

Fogpaw felt her eyes glaze over as she lost herself in those happy, hazy memories. "It was the best. I was so happy... being there with my parents and my brother. I thought nothing bad could ever happen but... I guess I was wrong."

"I'm so sorry for what WindClan did to you," he mewed again, still in that shy, quiet voice. "It just wasn't fair..."

"I'm sorry too," said Fogpaw, ending that conversation. It wasn't fair – he wasn't allowed to feel sorry for her, not after what he had done to betray her. Part of her hadn't even wanted to save him, but as much as she was starting to dislike him – now that he wasn't her only hope for survival – she knew taking him along was the right thing to do. That was where she was at right now – doing the right thing, but not necessarily liking it. "Come on, let's go."

They picked up the pace slightly, but she could tell Stripedpaw wasn't used to the marshy ground and the thistles and reeds that pulled at his fur. He looked uncomfortable, his eyes as big as saucers and his ears wide and swivelling, both of which made him look like an oversized bat. She felt a stirring of tired sympathy in her heart as she ran out of energy to be angry with him.

It was the middle of the night, so she doubted there would be any patrols to meet them along the way. They would just have to walk into camp and talk to the guard – not exactly the homecoming that Fogpaw had imagined. She had always thought she would run home into the middle of the day, bursting into camp, and everyone would immediately see her and rejoice and her parents would rush over and hold her and – Oh, StarClan, she missed them so badly.

"Do you..." Stripedpaw started, swallowing. "Do you think Toadstar will be okay with... with me?"

"Well where else are you going to go?" Fogpaw retorted, slightly irritated. "Toadstar will understand. We all know there's something... odd... about WindClan. Just try not to tell them that you got me killed, alright?"

"You're not dead," said Stripedpaw.

Fogpaw shot him a tired glance. For some reason – she wanted to call it miraculous but it probably had more to do with the darkness than with StarClan – she had survived drowning in the lake. But her body had been dead. However it worked, that was what had happened. "No," she said, at last. _Not anymore_.

As they approached camp, she signalled for him to be silent. Fogpaw had to take care to contain her excitement. To be home again was all she had ever wanted. Now, she let her hearing spread out in front of her, trying to determine who was guarding the camp. Goldenfur's thoughts came crawling back to her. They were simple, normal thoughts that Fogpaw envied. Goldenfur was tired and hungry, and idly thinking about a ThunderClan tom she had seen at the last Gathering.

They were so close! Fogpaw led Stripedpaw over a small hill, and then they found themselves between a tiny, wandering trickle of water that would lead them to the clearing that was RiverClan camp. As they followed the small stream, she began to make out familiar shapes in the distance – the camp walls made of reeds and rushes, the shape of the dens, and then there at the entrance – Goldenfur.

And then Fogpaw couldn't contain herself anymore.

She bounded forward, "Goldenfur!"

The long-furred warrior looked up and Fogpaw heard all of her thoughts slip away, replace by disbelief as she stared at the fluffy grey apprentice. "Fogpaw!" was all Goldenfur managed to say, scrambling to her paws as she looked on in awe. "You're... you're home."

Fogpaw nodded. "I... I made it back."

Goldenfur pressed her muzzle against Fogpaw's shoulder and breathed in, as if wanting to make sure this wasn't a dream. Then she pulled back and frowned as she caught sight of Stripedpaw. "Who's that?"

Fogpaw realized it may look as if she had decided to elope for a moon with the skinny excuse for a cat behind her. "That's Stripedpaw," she mewed. "He escaped with me from WindClan."

"Escape from WindClan?" Goldenfur repeated dumbly. "What's going on?"

"It's a long story," Fogpaw mewed. "Bring me to Toadstar so I can tell him, and then go wake up the rest of the Clan." The orders fell from her mouth naturally. She might just be a young apprentice, but after what had happened to her, she wasn't in the mood to mess around. Stripedpaw, who hadn't been included in her plan, waited awkwardly behind her.

Goldenfur looked lost, and Fogpaw bet the she-cat had never anticipated this kind of situation, but the RiverClan warrior did as she was told and led Fogpaw over to Toadstar's den as Stripedpaw loitered behind them. Goldenfur poked her head in the leader's den. "Toadstar? I'm sorry to wake you, it's – "

"Fogpaw!" She was interrupted by another voice, strong and powerful and yet scared and in awe. It was Reedthroat, nearly barrelling through camp in order to reach his long-lost daughter. His eyes were wide and he skidded to a stop in front of her, clearly trying to decide whether or not to bury his face in her fur or act like a mature and responsible deputy. Fogpaw saw the conflict in her father's eyes and she gave into the ache, pressing herself against his side and letting herself tremble.

Letting herself be weak.

She was home again.

His scent warmed and comforted her, and she almost let out a cry as he pulled back. The pale tabby, usually so strong and composed, looked weak and shaken. His eyes were tired and his face sallow with worry, but there was a spark of energy returning now. Reedthroat looked down at her in wonder. "Fogpaw, I've been so worried. What happened to you?"

"It's a long story," she muttered, not ready to move away from her father's closeness. "It's WindClan, they're evil, they... there's something bad there..."

She had felt like an adult for so long, trapped in WindClan and then escaping and rescuing Stripedpaw. She had felt like a warrior, in charge of herself, but here, back in RiverClan, she felt normal again. She was a young apprentice, only seven moons, scared and lost and relying on her father for comfort.

But it couldn't last forever.

"Come with me," Reedthroat said. "Let's go wake your mother."

Fogpaw shook her head. "I have to talk to Toadstar. You should come too, since you're deputy."

Reedthroat blinked in surprise, clearly not used to taking orders from his daughter. But the handsome tom seemed to realized the gravity of the situation because in the end he just nodded. Then his eyes fixed on Stripedpaw. "Who's that?"

"Stripedpaw. He escaped with me from WindClan," she mewed, giving the same answer she had given Goldenfur. "Can you show him around and get him settled?" she asked the she-cat. Goldenfur looked at her in surprise, then looked up at Reedthroat, who nodded in affirmation.

As they padded into Toadstar's den, Reedthroat touched her flank with his tail. "I don't know what happened to you, but... you can't give orders like that, Fogpaw. It's not your place."

She shrugged him off. He had no idea what she had been through. To him, she was barely more than a kit, but the darkness had changed her and shaped her into this, and she wasn't going to let her age stop the others from respecting who she had become.

Toadstar was already awake, roused by the noise. His eyes fixed on Fogpaw and his face lit up in pure happiness. "You're back!" he mewed. The tom looked far more tired than Fogpaw had remembered, reminding her of Rowanstar. She had barely known the former RiverClan leader and only had snippets of her in her memory, but they both just seemed so tired.

"Hello," said Fogpaw quietly, ready to delve into her story. She just wanted it to be over. She wanted to go to bed and have Toadstar and Reedthroat deal with this while she returned to her normal life. That had been her dream for so long. But she felt tendrils of darkness slithering in her mind, the remnants of a terrible torture, and realized things would never be normal again.

"What happened?" asked Toadstar quietly, giving her the freedom to speak, and she took it.

Fogpaw drew in a deep breath, ready to explain everything. "The day I went missing... I was chasing a rabbit too far and I went onto WindClan territory. I was caught, but instead of receiving a warning or a reprimand, I was knocked out and brought back to camp. When I was there... they did terrible things to me, Toadstar, to my _mind_. There's some kind of darkness in all of them, possessing them. They attacked ThunderClan; I think they want to attack _every_ Clan. They wanted to make me one of them, but I resisted somehow, and I finally managed to escape." She left out the part about drowning in the lake. "Stripedpaw... he was there too. The darkness hadn't spread to him so we helped each other escape."

They were both silent for a very long time. Fogpaw shot her father a glance. He looked murderously angry at the thought that she had been hurt. "I kept thinking of you," she said quietly. "You and Morningstep and Rainpaw. It's the only thing that kept me going." Reedthroat let out a huge sigh but said nothing, only swinging his massive head from side to side.

To her surprised, Toadstar seemed to believe her instantly. "We've known something has been wrong with WindClan for awhile now, though I never thought it was something so terrible. I'll send patrols to inform the other leaders – we should meet soon to discuss this." He paused. "Fogpaw, you've been through a terrible ordeal. You need to rest."

But she couldn't rest. She could never rest again. Her body vibrated with angry energy, and she couldn't do anything about it, so Fogpaw simply bowed her head. "Yes, Toadstar."

He smiled softly, and it was worn and sad but it was still there. "You've been very brave, Fogpaw. And tell Stripedpaw that of course it is alright if he stays."

Fogpaw nodded again and then Reedthroat was ushering her out of Toadstar's den, back towards the centre of camp where the rest of her family stood waiting. There they were, staring at her in disbelief. Morningstep and Rainpaw. Her brother, her arrogant, obnoxious brother, looked to be on the verge of breaking down. He ran toward her first, barrelling into her, pressing his muzzle into her fur. "I thought you were dead," he said, and she could hear the sob in his voice. "I thought you were dead."

Rainpaw had thought she was dead and all Fogpaw could think was: _stop crying_. She was numb.

Morningstep came next, pressing against her, licking her cheek and forehead. "I missed you so much. My beautiful, brave daughter. I'm so glad you've come back to us," she said softly, breathing in Fogpaw's scent. "We were all so worried. I'm so scared this is just a dream, I'm so scared..."

Why couldn't she feel anything? Why couldn't she feel sad for worrying them and ecstatic to have returned? Fogpaw stood there, feeling completely disconnected from her family, a heavy weight in her heart. Maybe this ordeal would never truly be over.

She licked Morningstep's cheek and bumped shoulders with Rainpaw. "I missed you too," she mewed. "You helped me get through." It wasn't a lie, and yet she had already abandoned her prayer. "Now... now I just need some sleep."

Goldenfur padded up behind her. "I've set up nests for you and Stripedpaw in the apprentices den, Fogpaw. You too, Rainpaw," she informed them quietly, trying not to intrude on the family moment.

When Fogpaw shot her brother a questioning look, he shrugged. "The den was too empty. I couldn't sleep there. I slept in the nursery," Rainpaw admitted sheepishly. Her big, brave brother... sleeping in the nursery while Fogpaw had slept in a pit in the ground.

There was nothing more she wanted to say. She had been so excited to come home but the reality had fallen flat before her expectations. Fogpaw felt empty, and all she wanted to do was sleep, bury herself in happier dreams. Maybe she would feel better when she woke up.

They all went to their nests in silence, curling up in the moss. Fogpaw felt exhausted and she crashed into her bed, expecting sleep to take her immediately. But it didn't.

And it still didn't.

And even as she waited, eyes closed, empty mind, she found sleep just wouldn't come. A terrible thought came to her. _What if I can never sleep again_? What if the darkness had done something to her? What if this was one of the changes?

No. It couldn't be.

No.

Fogpaw tried again. She wanted to sleep. She willed it with every fibre of her body. But as it continued to evade her, she was left listless and angry. Her mind started to wander, crawling over Rainpaw and his thoughts, which ticked slowly inside his head, dreams forming and breaking in instants. She could tell that as excited as he was for her to return, he could tell something was off, and there was a soft sadness in his chest.

Then she went over to Stripedpaw. He was asleep, but his dreams were worried and frantic. Words went off in his head. _Three days_. Fogpaw frowned. What was supposed to happen then? She tried to listen harder and got images of WindClan, preparing for another attack.

_Three days_.

She woke him up. "Stripedpaw!" she hissed.

"What?" he mumbled groggily, unhappy to be woken.

"Is WindClan going to attack again in three days?" she hissed.

"Hmm?" he said, a little incoherent. "Oh. Yeah, yeah, they were talking about attacking ShadowClan, I think..."

"WindClan is going to attack ShadowClan in three days and _you didn't tell anyone_." She couldn't believe it.

"I didn't think it was important," said Stripedpaw timidly. "I mean, we're in RiverClan now."

Oh StarClan, what was she going to do with Stripedpaw? "I can't believe you," she snapped at him, getting to her paws. "Come on. We have to tell Toadstar. He has to warn them."

"Can't we tell him in the morning?" Stripedpaw begged with a yawn.

He was literally the worst. "No," Fogpaw hissed. "Now get up. Toadstar needs to know _now_ so he can make a decision."

WindClan was going to attack ShadowClan in three days, and Fogpaw knew that if ShadowClan wasn't ready, well...

That would be it.

**x x x**

It had been a day since he had rescued Fogpaw, almost a day since he had run away from the ritual. All Russet could think about was the sight of the flame-pointed kittypet on the slab of rock and the way his stomach had twisted in complete disgust. He had known at that moment that he couldn't _do_ it, that he couldn't be one of them. He had wanted to be recognized, to be respected, but he had never wanted to commit violence just for the sake of violence. Not like they did...

_I swore to protect the weak_. If only he had been given a chance to say those words aloud under StarClan. If only Toadstripe had understood why Russet had made the choices he did. He had just wanted to protect RiverClan, that was all. But they had never understood, never appreciated his sacrifice...

The ginger tom had spent the last day skirting around Clan territory, trying to avoid being seen by any patrols. He was also worried about being followed by one of the rogue – Baron had let him go, saying he was _interested_, and that made Russet sure that the rogue leader was going to try to keep an eye on him. But the real reason Russet had been skulking around the ShadowClan border was because he was working up the courage to talk to one cat in particular.

A cat that he had hated more than anything.

A cat that he perceived to have stolen everything from him.

Sootpaw.

He had initially thought of Sootpaw as the worst, a cat who had been arrogant and pretentious and somehow lucky enough to be respected by his Clan, unlike Russet who had always strived for that attention. Lilypaw had taken a liking to Sootpaw as well, which had driven Russet crazy. But somehow Sootpaw had managed to defeat Falconswoop, something Russet had been too weak to do. Maybe Sootpaw could teach him something. How to be strong, but in the right way.

To be completely honest, Russet had no real idea what he was doing. But he couldn't go back, and he didn't know what would happen if he just kept running. Part of him was desperate to beg forgiveness from Toadstripe and Lilypaw, some farfetched fantasy playing in his head about being accepted back to RiverClan. Fogpaw would be there, she would vouch for him, and then Lilypaw – or whatever her warrior name was – would welcome him back with open arms and Toadstripe would grudgingly forgive him.

But Russet didn't feel ready for that yet. He had to _earn_ it, had to redeem himself. He knew he could – he was strong and powerful. All he needed was a chance to prove himself. He wasn't quite sure how Sootpaw would offer him that, but there would be some way. He wasn't ready to go back to RiverClan – but when he did return, he would return a hero.

So now he stood on the edge of ShadowClan territory, pacing around the border, desperately hoping he hadn't been followed. The sun was setting and the shadows cast unfamiliar shapes on the snow around him. It was cold, though warmer than the previous night, which he had spent curled up in underneath the roots of an upturned tree, afraid to close his eyes in case Baron found him and made sure he never opened them again. Now, however, he felt a little stronger, a little more sure of himself. The scent of ShadowClan was acrid and it stung his mouth, reminding him of Falconswoop and making his stomach turn on itself. The wind drifted lazily through his thick ginger fur and but he refused to doubt himself. This was the right thing to do. He had to seek redemption, had to put himself back on the right path. Russet knew that he could have been so great. He could have a hero, a champion of RiverClan, could have one day been Russetstar... but he had made one bad decision, one _weak_ decision – to bargain with Falconswoop instead of fighting him like Sootpaw did.

He couldn't go on comparing himself to Sootpaw. Once he did this, once he had proved himself, he would finally be a peace, to become the warrior he had always wanted to be... because while Russet had hid it for so long, being a warrior had been his dream. Not a rogue. Never a rogue... all he had wanted was to be respected, but as he thought of the kittypet lying there with his plump, exposed stomach... killing that tom wouldn't have earned him any respect from anyone who actually mattered.

Russet closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and when he opened them again he was _ready. _He took a confident step onto ShadowClan territory, trying to ignore their terrible scent. He kept in the shadows, staying along the shrubs and the bracken, waiting for a patrol to go by. He didn't know what he would say, didn't know how to explain himself. He was looking for help, really, but had no way to convince them to give it to him.

The ginger rogue didn't have to wait long for a stronger ShadowClan scent to sweep by him, and his heart skipped a beat when he realized it was the scent he had hoping for and dreading at the same time – _Sootpaw. _Words failed him and he took another moment to steady himself. Weakness was not allowed. Never allowed.

There was another scent with him, one that Russet didn't recognize. He didn't care. He took a deep breath and strode out from the bushes, emerging in front of the ShadowClan patrol. The rogue took care to make himself seem nonthreatening, but strong and able all the same. "Sootpaw," he greeted, before the two cats could react. He barely saw them before the words left his mouth – then his eyes focused and he saw Sootpaw, all grown up and muscular and strong, amber eyes hard and defensive. He was so different – he must be a warrior now, Russet was sure. The cat with him was smaller, with a mess of white and grey fur, a bit of kit fat hanging off his face and belly.

"It's Soot_claw_," corrected the small cat, trying to sound sassy though fear was evident in his voice. "He's a warrior."

Russet saw surprise light up Sootclaw's face at this before the grey warrior turned back to him, eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here, Russetpaw?"

"This is Russetpaw?" whispered the young tom to Sootclaw, but it wasn't quiet enough and Russet could hear every word as it stung him. "_The_ Russetpaw?"

"Yes, Pigeonpaw, now hush," said Sootclaw, signalling to be silent with his tail as he waited for Russet's answer.

Russet took a deep breath. This was the moment. He had to impress upon Sootclaw just how desperate he was for a chance to redeem himself, a chance to be better. He had to swallow his pride, hard as it was, and appeal to the grey warrior's better nature. "I'm here because I'm sorry, Sootclaw," he mewed quietly. "I always thought I did the right thing, but it wasn't – it wasn't _strong_, and I want to be strong. I want to be brave and respected; another chance. You had the strength to stand up to Falconswoop. You were brave. I... I want to be like that. I want to be _better_ and I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

Sootclaw's eyes searched his face. He could tell the grey tom was hesitant to believe him, but at least there was no obvious malice in his eyes. Russet felt his stomach begin to churn. He had just opened himself up to his worst enemy more than he had to any other cat. His deep insecurities came flooding out. He had finally realized what he wanted to do, but was it too late? After taking a long breath, Sootclaw finally spoke. "What do you think I can do for you? Just take you to ShadowClan, pretend everything is fine?"

"I don't know," Russet admitted, words that were hard for him to say. He tried to think of a good answer as Pigeonpaw stared at him with wide-eyed fascination. "I just want a chance to prove myself. Anything."

Something seemed to click in Sootclaw's eyes and then, to Russet's surprise, he nodded. "Alright. Come with me."

Pigeonpaw frowned. "You're really letting _him_ come back to camp? A _traitor_?"

"It's okay," said Sootclaw quietly. "I know what I'm doing." Pigeonpaw looked like he wanted to argue, but then remembered himself and fell silent, though he didn't miss the chance to shoot Russet a distrustful glance.

"Thank you, Sootclaw," said Russet, never thinking he would say those words. "And it's Russet now."

Sootclaw just grunted. Russet could tell that there was a lot on his mind and so he fell silent, wondering how on earth he had ever gotten to this point. As much as he had hated Sootpaw, he had to admit that as a warrior, Sootclaw seemed to have it together.

.

When they got back to camp, there was no time for Sootclaw to announce Russet. The ginger tom was preparing to face a lot of questions and angry looks, but instead everyone was distracted, crowding around the platform where Eaglestar stood, a worried look on his face. "What's going on?" Russet asked Sootclaw, who shushed him without a second thought. It irked the former rogue slightly, but he could tell that something was really wrong here.

He looked around ShadowClan camp, remembering the last time he had been here, when Falconswoop had asked him to kill Hailstripe... Russet remembered looking down at the white tom and being unable to do it, nausea rising in his stomach. Even then he hadn't been a killer, but evidently he hadn't learned his lesson. Still, being back here made him feel physically weak.

Russet stood at the back of the crowd, Sootclaw beside him, though Pigeonpaw went to try and push his way to the front. As he looked around, Russet recognized so many cats... Redfur, Greywing, Flowerpaw... though she would be a warrior now too. And then he noticed something strange, a familiar scent that didn't belong among the peat and loam and muck of ShadowClan – a scent that reminded him of home.

RiverClan.

There, at the front, he saw them. His former Clanmates. Hazelthorn, Oaktail, and Whitestream. They hadn't noticed him and so he shrunk away, trying to be invisible. Would they even recognize him from this distance? Did they even think of him, now and then, sad and wistful? The one cat he had hoped to see when he had scented them wasn't there. _Lilypaw_, he thought, wondering what she would be like now, how she had grown up.

Then Eaglestar spoke. "The RiverClan patrol has come to warn us of an attack from WindClan, similar to the one that was attempted on ThunderClan. It will occur in two days from now. We need to be ready."

"How can they be sure?" yowled Greywing. He looked nervous, pacing around from side to side.

It was Whitestream who spoke up, her quiet voice carrying confidently across the clearing. "Our apprentice – _my _apprentice – who went missing, Fogpaw, recently returned to us. She had been kidnapped by WindClan, but managed to escape. She brought back a warning of their next attack and it would be foolish not to heed it."

Eaglestar nodded. "According to her, WindClan is consumed by some kind of darkness. It will take all our strength to fight them, which is why I will be sending a message to ThunderClan and asking for their help. Sootclaw, would you like to go?"

Beside him, Sootclaw started. "Of course, Eaglestar."

Eaglestar's gaze shifted over to the spot beside Sootclaw where Russet had been, but the ginger tom had slunk away, back out of camp and into the dark woods just outside it. He didn't want to be noticed, not now, not while everyone was here. They would talk to Eaglestar alone, later, when RiverClan was gone.

Still, part of Russet was excited. It seemed like his timing was perfect – a big battle against WindClan? It was the perfect opportunity to prove himself. He would fight to protect ShadowClan, he would be heralded for his bravery, and he would at last be able to return to RiverClan.

As he stood there, contemplating his newly bright future, the tom thought he heard a noise behind him. When he turned, however, nothing was there – just the darkness of the night and the soft whispering of the wind.

**XX XX XX XX**

**A/N:** Alright, my NaNo is on track! As I write this I'm half done the next chapter as well. I know I'm pumping them out pretty fast but reviews are always still appreciated :3 This chapter is a little (aka a lot) longer than I meant, but I'm working on my outline and trying to fix it up so the ending happens concisely and still makes sense. Only five chapters left! I can't believe it, I'm kinda terrified to finish! Also, because this is NaNo and I haven't written in a year, some plot lines might not get dealt with _perfectly_, but anything that doesn't make sense will get explained in the next book (which I will have to dedicate all my NaNos too if I want to finish, heh.)

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	31. Chapter Twenty-Nine

**CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE**

Nettleclaw was sick and he wasn't getting any better. They had all hoped the greencough would leave him, had hoped it up until the last second it was possible for the sickness to vanish and let Nettleclaw recover. But now the elder's den had been turned into a makeshift quarantine and the deputy was confined there, and everyone knew it was permanent. Thickfur stood in the centre of camp, trying not to think about all the implications this held, but Nettleclaw's coughs echoed through the still ThunderClan ear and grated on his ears like claws on stone.

Nettleclaw was sick and he was never going to get better.

Owlfeather and Mousepaw had made full recoveries and were now back to training, just as enthusiastic as before. It was heartwarming to see them train, so happy and full of life. Mousepaw seemed to look forward to every moment of it, and Owlfeather was a natural mentor, kind and generous and not afraid to sheepishly admit his mistakes. Thickfur knew he should be happy for them, but part of him was jealous. He wanted to be that kind of mentor for Dawnpaw but now he might never get the chance.

Thickfur hadn't realized that he was just standing there until the weight of the snow on his muzzle became a distraction. It fell down slowly in lazy flakes that swooped through the air, directed by the faint gusts of wind coming through the ThunderClan camp. The air around him was freezing cold, unusual for the middle of the afternoon with the sun beaming down, but he found that he didn't care. He just stood there, listening to Nettleclaw, whose coughs were getting weaker and weaker until it sounded like he had been heaving up his own lungs and they had gotten stuck in his throat.

He saw Kitetail standing in the entrance to the medicine cat's den, worriedly staring at the elder's den. Thickfur had had his fair share of disagreement with the brown tabby lately, but he knew that Kitetail must be torn up over this. The tom might originally be from ShadowClan, but lately he had shown he was now a ThunderClan cat through and through. The large grey tom thought of what Kitetail had said, that Dawnpaw hated him. He had tried to ignore it, knowing Kitetail had just been trying to hurt him, but... even if it was a lie, as Kitetail had later said, it still stung. He had only wanted to be a good mentor to her, in the way he knew how. Opening up was very difficult for the warrior.

Thickfur hadn't exactly led an easy life. His childhood was a memory that he fought to keep repressed – remembering it led to too much pain, let to bitterness toward his father, toward his whole family. It wasn't something he talked about to strangers. But Dawnpaw had just assumed his bitterness, his coldness, his whole attitude was just because he wanted to be cruel and aggravate her. If she hated him, it was because she didn't understand anything about it.

He had known that the whole time he had been training her, that one day she would understand the reasoning behind his actions and her hatred would fade into appreciation. Thickfur had always banked on that. But now she was in a coma, and she might never wake up, and he hated the thought that she might die thinking that he was a terrible, cruel mentor, that he would never get to apologize and explain himself.

No. Dawnpaw couldn't die. His heart went out to the ginger she-cat, lying there in the den, her heart still feebly beating as she attempted to survive. She seemed to be shrinking each day and Thickfur remembered something else that Kitetail had said, that his apprentice might just wither away.

It was really telling, how, when the whole camp was worried about greencough and the threat of WindClan attacking again, that Thickfur was still worried for Dawnpaw, still holding on to the thread of hope that she would pull through. She had survived training under him – she would make it through this; she was far more resilient than the others gave her credit for. He saw it in their eyes, that they had given up. Slatestar kept trying to bring up the idea of giving him a new apprentice, and whenever Dawnpaw was mentioned, cats threw their gazes to the ground.

In their minds, it was over.

Nettleclaw coughed again.

Thickfur couldn't do anything for Dawnpaw, but maybe he could be there for Nettleclaw. The elder's den was under very strict quarantine – only Slatestar went in and out to deliver food and catnip to Nettleclaw. He had plenty of lives left and could afford to lose one if it meant caring for and comforting his deputy and friend. The grey leader had even forbid Kitetail from visiting, for his own safety. But Thickfur didn't care. Maybe it was a sense of anger toward Slatestar and a desire to rebel, maybe it was guilt at Snowfoot's death or Dawnpaw's condition, and maybe it was just an honest wish to comfort an old friend.

He strode toward the elder's den and made his way inside to where Nettleclaw was heaving. The den reeked of sickness and for a moment Thickfur almost regretted his decision, but he couldn't turn away now.

The tom was lying in a moss nest which had been reduced to mere scraps. He was a lot thinner than Thickfur remembered, his ribs showing underneath a dull ginger and white pelt. The once strong and muscular deputy, now small and weak. He looked up as Thickfur entered, hope flaring in his eyes and then fading when he recognized the tom. Nettleclaw let out a weak laugh. "I thought – I thought you might be Elmheart," he said quietly.

Thickfur winced. The golden-brown tom had been so distracted lately, spending all of his time with Chantelle, often sharing tongues with her in a private location. Their affections for each other were no secret, but with everything going on, no one had really called them out on it – there were other things to worry about. But now Elmheart had an anxiousness about him that was growing frantic, and Thickfur didn't remember the last thing he had spoken to the tom.

Apparently, neither did Nettleclaw, his own father. It was true that they had never been particularly close – after all, Nettleclaw and Larkflight had broken up soon after Elmheart's birth – but Thickfur couldn't imagine what Nettleclaw was going through. Dying here, forced to be alone, without his family around him.

"I'm sorry," muttered Thickfur.

"Me too," said Nettleclaw softly, closing his eyes. The deputy had spent so long being strong that now it seemed he was relieved to be weak, to just lie here with his shallow breathing. "Ah well. Thickfur, you know you're not supposed to be in here?"

"I know," he said grudgingly. "I don't care. I didn't want... I didn't want you to be alone." The words were difficult for him to say.

Nettleclaw chuckled weakly, his eyes still closed. "You used to be like that as a kit... always going where you weren't supposed to be... I guess that kit is still in you somewhere..."

Both of them knew why Thickfur had changed from being an errant kit to a warrior bound to the code and its rules, but it was a sad subject and Thickfur didn't want to make the mood even worse. "I guess," he said, the corner of his mouth twisting up.

Nettleclaw huffed again. Then his next words took Thickfur by surprise. "Thickfur... I'm going to die, aren't I? Slatestar won't tell me, he says not to give up, but..."

There was nothing to say; Thickfur wasn't going to lie to a cat he respected so much. "Yes, Nettleclaw, you're going to die," he mewed quietly.

"Well, that's a relief," said Nettleclaw, still trying to find the humour in the bleak situation. "I don't have to keep fighting anymore. I'm getting tired, Thickfur. I want to join StarClan now."

"We'll all miss you," Thickfur told him, flicking his tail idly. "You were a good deputy."

"I had a good Clan," replied the ginger-and-white tom, with another cough. His eyes glazed over as he stared out into the distance. "I just... Thickfur, can I tell you something?"

"Of course," said Thickfur. The grey tabby was no good with these kinds of things, no good with emotions, but no one else had braved the threat of greencough to sit with the deputy, who deserved all of their care and respect, so Thickfur had stepped up, and he couldn't refuse Nettleclaw this. "I'm here for you."

Nettleclaw tried to purr, but it was weak and wistful. The deputy let out another cough before he spoke. "I never wanted... to end things with Larkflight," he mewed. "I love her, I've always loved her. But she didn't know – she left me because I couldn't show it. If you love someone, you let them know... that's what I regret, not always letting her know." He paused and blinked open his eyes, catching Thickfur's gaze. "Elmheart too. My son. I did better with Galepaw and Mousepaw, I was always there for them, but not Elmheart... and I should have been."

Thickfur felt sadness grip him, a terrible sorrow that woke his emotions and sent them swirling through him. He had always tried to hide his feelings and keep them suppressed, because the truth was he _was_ an emotional cat, and when he let them out they threatened to take over them. So he didn't show it, he just kept a neutral face and strong posture, and touched the tip of his tail to Nettleclaw's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"I wish they were here," said Nettleclaw sadly. "I know they can't be – and I don't want to get them sick – but I wish they were here with me."

"You'll see them again one day," Thickfur promised him. "In StarClan."

"_StarClan_," breathed Nettleclaw, as he exhaled wistfully, closing his eyes once more. "I'd like... to go there now. Thank you... Thickfur." Then his breathed slowed and the rise and fall of his chest came to a stop. His eyes fluttered once, and then were still.

And he was still.

Thickfur drew in a deep breath as he got to his paws. He had never meant for this to happen – he had just wanted to visit the tom – but he was glad to have relieved Nettleclaw of his burdens, even if they were burdens Thickfur had never wanted. Unsteadily, he padded out of the elder's den, back into the brightness of the clearing. He didn't know what he was going to say, how he was going to tell Slatestar and Kitetail.

It was the medicine cat who saw him first. Kitetail rushed over, a concerned look on his face. "What are you doing? You know you're not supposed to be in there," he snapped at the warrior, anger replacing his usual meek nature. The brown tom was generally scared of Thickfur, luckily not so much when it came to his patients. When he saw the blank look on Thickfur's face, worry replaced his anger. "No."

Thickfur nodded slowly. "He's in StarClan's paws now," he mewed, moving away from Kitetail, who was standing still in disbelief. "We have to tell Slatestar."

"No," whispered Kitetail again, not moving, and his mouth continued to open and close, but no words came out. It was his first death, Thickfur knew, the first cat he couldn't save. _Get used to it_, he wanted to say, but decided to hold his tongue. Now wasn't the time.

Others around the clearing were starting to notice. Thickfur ignored them, heading straight for his father's den, all of Nettleclaw's burdens weighing down on his shoulders.

.

They buried him outside of camp, moving quickly and silently. Thickfur was at the front, digging through the snow and dirt, working quietly and tirelessly. Beside him, Slatestar worked somehow even harder, a grim look on his face. Beechclaw was on his other side, his expression unreadable. The mood was sombre as they all mourned the loss of their deputy, who had served ThunderClan loyally and bravely for many moons, and who had been an integral part of their Clan.

Behind him hovered the others, waiting to pay their respects. The whole Clan was out, preparing to sit a quiet vigil for their fallen deputy. Thickfur barely noticed as Nettleclaw's body was placed in the grave, barely noticed as they closed the hole back up, barely noticed the others finish while he kept working, desperate to do anything to distract himself.

Slatestar touched his tail to his son's shoulder. "Thickfur," he said quietly. "Stop."

_He's gone_. Thickfur pulled back. Nettleclaw's spirit had gone to StarClan while the earth had swallowed up his body. He shifted from paw to paw, thinking about what the tom had said, about showing those you love how much you care. The grey tabby looked over at his father and wondered how they had both let their relationship become so strained.

"Nettleclaw was... an excellent deputy. He was loved by all of us: a warrior, a mate, and a father," said Slatestar, quiet but clear. Thickfur looked over the assembled crowd, looked at the sorrowful expressions and long faces. Galepaw and Mousepaw sat pressed together, mourning the loss of their father, while Auburnfur burrowed her face into Beechclaw's fur. The brown tabby tried to keep a stoic face, but it was failing, and it was the same with Grasscloud. Larkflight stood at the front, and the devastation on her face was more than Thickfur could bear – he had to look away. At the back, the three former rogues were clustered, respectfully keeping their distance from the rest of the Clan.

And then there was Elmheart. He stood alone, a shocked expression on his face, his eyes filled with dismay. There was a hard set to his jaw, as if he had made a decision. Thickfur wished he could share Nettleclaw's words with the golden-brown tom, but he didn't know how. It seemed to intimate, too inappropriate for their limited relationship.

Slatestar continued: "He was my second deputy, chosen when Snowfoot retired to become an elder. It seems... it seems so terribly cruel that I have lost two of my closest friends in such a short period of time, but StarClan does everything for a reason. He will never be forgotten. Let us have a moment of silence to remember and respect everything he dedicated to this Clan."

They all bowed their heads. Eventually, Slatestar raised his. "But Nettleclaw knew he might not survive the greencough. We spoke at length about who would replace him if needed, and so I need no more time to make this decision and am prepared to announce it. I saw this in front of the body of Nettleclaw, so that his spirit may hear and approve my decision: the new deputy of ThunderClan will be Larchstripe."

There was a quiet, dampened cheering as the long-furred silver she-cat was welcomed as the Clan's new deputy. No one was surprised by this announcement – Larchstripe was a loyal senior warrior, one of Slatestar's most trusted, and she was also an excellent fighter and hunter, with a cool head on her shoulders. "Thank you, Slatestar," she mewed softly as they touched noses.

"I have one more announcement to make," said Slatestar. "I was waiting for the right time, and well, this might not be it, but... even amongst this time of loss and despair, we are still able to welcome new life into the Clan. Grasscloud and I are, well, she is having my kits." And despite the sadness, the dark grey tabby's eyes glowed with happiness.

The rest of the Clan crowded around Grasscloud to congratulate her and look at her belly, though it hadn't begun to show, but Thickfur couldn't move. He was floored by this announcement, disgusted and betrayed. His father was finally moving on, finally starting a new family to erase the disappointment of his old one. He had never been that close with Thickfur and Cherrytail, but... to love another she-cat? _What about Flamefur_, he wanted to scream. _She's waiting for you in StarClan, I'm sure. She never stopped loving you._

_What about mom_, he thought, and then childishly, petulantly: _what about me?_

**x x x**

Kitetail couldn't handle it. Slatestar's words had been beautiful and eloquent, Larchstripe the best choice for deputy, but it didn't matter to him, not right now. All the brown tabby could think about was that he hadn't been able to save Nettleclaw. He had known the second Thickfur had stepped out of the den, had seen it in the grey warrior's cold eyes. In fact, he had known it for a long time, but he had just refused to accept it. The greencough had claimed the former deputy, and no matter how much they said it wasn't his fault, that the sickness had been too strong, Kitetail would always blame himself.

He could have saved Nettleclaw, if he'd been stronger, if he'd been _better_. Birchcloud would have been able to save him, Kitetail was sure. Birchcloud. The cat he had looked up to his entire life, the cat he had _dreamed_ would one day save him from Falconswoop and act as his father instead. But the cruel truth was that Falconswoop was Kitetail's father, and that Sootclaw was lucky enough to have Birchcloud's blood in his veins. And yet... Kitetail knew how much it had killed Sootclaw to live up to his Falconswoop's expectations, to stand up to him, to ultimately defeat him. If only Birchcloud had told him the truth from the beginning. Everything would have been different.

But Kitetail couldn't think about that now. He had made his way to Slatestar's den once the burial and vigil had ended in order to talk to the dark grey leader about his fears. He paused at the moss curtain and called a greeting. "Hello?"

Slatestar beckoned him in. The tom looked exhausted, and for good reason. After the vigil, he had been swarmed by the Clan, being wished good-luck on his litter of kits. Kitetail had watched as Slatestar and Grasscloud sat together, pelts touching as they accepted the congratulations. Unbidden, Kitetail's eyes had flickered to Thickfur, who had looked on almost murderously, as if disbelieving that his father might want more kits. _I can't think of a single reason Slatestar might want a son other than Thickfur_, thought Kitetail sarcastically, though it was a mean thought and he felt immediately guilty afterwards.

"What can I do for you, Kitetail?" asked Slatestar, lying down in his nest, weariness shining in his yellow eyes.

Fear gripped Kitetail, fear that Slatestar might blame him for Nettleclaw's death, and worse, for Snowfoot's as well. Kitetail couldn't imagine losing his two closest friends at the same time – losing Sootclaw, Birchcloud, Flowerpelt, Alder... The tom blinked. Had he really just included Alder in that list? They had been spending more time together lately, but he would still hesitate to call Alder a friend.

"I... I don't think I can do this, Slatestar," Kitetail admitted guiltily. Slatestar had placed so much faith in him to become a good medicine cat, to care for the Clan, and now the former ShadowClan tom was letting him down. "I wasn't able to save Nettleclaw from greencough. A better medicine cat might have been able to, I..." He closed his eyes, waiting for Slatestar to lie and say that it wasn't his fault.

"I know," said Slatestar, at least, breathing out. "It wouldn't have been easy, it could have gone either way, but a more experienced medicine cat might have been able to save him." He saw Kitetail wince and let out a sigh. "But that's not _your_ fault, Kitetail. You did the best you could and that's all I can ask for. You're not a bad medicine cat. You just need more time."

Time wouldn't help him. He needed more training. Occasional sessions with Birchcloud hadn't been enough to fully prepare him; it hadn't been like having a full-time mentor. "What if that isn't it? What if I just didn't learn enough and I'll never be better?"

"Don't doubt yourself," snapped Slatestar, relenting afterwards. "Sorry. I'm very tired. But Kitetail, you can do this. And you can always go to Birchcloud for help."

He shook his head. "I can't. I'll never be good enough for ThunderClan. I'll never be able to fully train an apprentice, I..."

"Well you're all we have," said Slatestar, holding back a snap, though his voice was cold. Kitetail could tell he was tired and didn't want to handle this. The usually patient and kind leader was in a bad mood. "Are you telling me you want to leave? To abandon your vow?"

No. He couldn't. Being a medicine cat was all Kitetail had ever wanted and there was nothing else he could do. "No, Slatestar," he mumbled at last.

"Good," mewed the tom. "Now, you're our medicine cat, and I _believe _in you. ThunderClan _needs_ you, Kitetail. You may not be perfect but it's better than no medicine cat at all – and you will learn. You will get better. I don't hold Nettleclaw's death against you – I am _proud_ to call you my medicine cat, no matter what."

The leader's voice was angry but his words were encouraging, which left Kitetail confused and not feeling much better. He had wanted reassurance, but Slatestar had told him to toughen up and get back to his duties. It was nice to have the leader's faith in him, but at the same time, it would have been nice to have some kindness as well.

Before Kitetail could leave, the moss curtain rustled and Elmheart came into the den, a determined look on his face. Kitetail hadn't seem the tom a lot lately – he was spending a lot of time with Chantelle, but the brown tabby supposed his father's death had been quite a shock to him.

"We're busy," said Slatestar sharply.

"I know, and I'm sorry," said Elmheart, voice quiet but filled with conviction. "I had to tell you something and I had to tell you now."

Slatestar exhaled in resignation. "What is it, Elmheart?"

"I'm leaving," said the golden-brown tom, taking them both by surprise. He didn't wait for their reactions. "There's nothing for me here. Nettleclaw and Dawnpaw are gone. I love ThunderClan, but... I love Chantelle more. She's the only thing that's made me happy in moons. We're going to the Tribe and we're leaving now."

"Right now?" asked Slatestar, slightly dumbfounded. Kitetail had known that Elmheart and Chantelle were close, but he had never expected that the warrior would want to leave the Clan.

Elmheart nodded. "I've been... I've been trying to decide for awhile. But Nettleclaw was the last thing keeping me here. This is what I want and you can't make me stay."

"No," said Slatestar coldly, as though this was the last thing he wanted to deal with today, and it probably was. "I can't. Go, then, Elmheart. Go now and go quickly. From this moment on you are no longer part of ThunderClan."

Kitetail stared at him in wonder. Slatestar hadn't tried to convince him to say, hadn't tried to bargain, to say that they needed him – he had just let him go. He supposed the ThunderClan leader wasn't in the mood for anything else. If Elmheart didn't want to stay, then nothing was going to make him.

Elmheart also looked surprised by how quickly the meeting had gone. There was no sadness, no ceremony to see him go, just a few cold words. He swallowed heavily, a look of doubt in his eyes, and then he turned tail and left.

.

Night found Kitetail back in his den, sorting herbs and trying to keep himself occupied. So much had happened today that he didn't want to think about – Nettleclaw's death, Elmheart leaving. At least Grasscloud's pregnancy was a light in the darkness that seemed to have swept over the Clan. He tried to think of what herbs he would need for that, as this would be his first delivery. He couldn't let Nettleclaw's death get to him. He would be fine. Grasscloud would be fine. Her kits would be fine.

He barely noticed Alder slipping into his den. The skinny brown tom was more tired than usual, a sad look on his usually blank face. Alder nodded a greeting to the medicine cat and then curled up in the corner beside his nest, a spot he had taken to recently, and he would often sit and watch while Kitetail worked and the two made light conversation.

"Chantelle left with Elmheart," said Alder suddenly. There was something odd in his voice that Kitetail recognized was sadness. Alder had never really shown his emotions before, playing foil to Kitetail's usually anxious and emotional state, but they were here now.

"I know," said Kitetail. "I was with Slatestar when Elmheart came in to tell him."

Alder let out a sigh. "I didn't think she would actually go."

Kitetail glanced over at the rogue. "Are you upset about it?"

"Upset, no," said Alder with a shrug. "I am a little sad. Chantelle was my closest friend for pretty much all of my life. But I'm also relieved."

"Relieved?" questioned the medicine cat.

Alder nodded. "Chantelle has been in love with me for a very long time, and it's... it's been hard to be the object of her affections. I'm glad that she has found happiness with Elmheart."

"So you knew she loved you?" said Kitetail. It had been fairly obvious, however he knew that Alder could oblivious to things.

The tabby nodded. "Of course," he mewed. "I would have to be an idiot not to. I pretended I didn't know, that she was far more subtle with it than she was. I didn't hold it against her, I just..."

"You didn't return her feelings," Kitetail supplied helpfully. It was odd to be talking about this with Alder, but part of him felt _special_ that the loner prince was opening up to him.

Alder nodded. "I mean, if we had stayed with the band and had never been chased out, we may have become mates in order to produce an heir, but I would never have been able to return her feelings. I've never really felt that way toward any she-cat."

"You should have just told her," said Kitetail, though he supposed he was in no position to be giving advice. "She probably wasted a lot of time hoping."

The other tom mused over this. "You're probably right," he said. "I didn't know how. I didn't want to lose a friendship."

And Kitetail saw, once again, that Alder was selfish, but he was selfish without realizing it, and there was a part of him that was ready to own up to his mistakes and do better, and it was that part that Kitetail liked and trusted. Alder placed his head on his paws, letting out a tired sigh to signal the end of their conversation, but Kitetail wasn't done. "Alder, are we friends?"

That made him look up, startled. Alder frowned. "I don't know. Have you forgiven me for bringing danger to your Clan? For causing conflict between you and Thickfur?"

"Thickfur's anger is his own problem," said Kitetail, dismissing that concern. "And I've forgiven you if you're sorry. It's that simple."

Alder blinked. "Then yes. We're friends."

Before Kitetail could think of a reply, there was a commotion from the centre of camp, and he peeked out of his den to see Sootclaw padding in, surrounded by a patrol of ThunderClan warriors, one of whom immediately went to get Slatestar. Once the leader was present, Sootclaw stepped forward, as if he had an announcement to make. Kitetail wanted to go and greet his brother, his heart soaring at the sight of him, but Birchcloud's secret weighed him down and made him need to go run and hide.

He slunk out, trying not to let Sootclaw see him, hiding at the back of the crowd. Alder followed him, and they managed to get behind Beechclaw and Owlfeather, who were craning their necks to see better. "What's going on?" asked Beechclaw loudly.

Slatestar nodded to Sootclaw. "Give your announcement."

"Thank you," said Sootclaw. He took a deep breath. "We have received word that WindClan is going to attack us in two days. You are all aware that there is something wrong with them – well, there is a darkness inside of them, making them stronger and far more dangerous. Eaglestar has sent me to ask for your help in battle. We will all meet up along the lake the day of the battle and meet them on their way. RiverClan has also volunteered a force to help us. In their current state, WindClan poses a threat to every Clan, and the only way to defeat them is all together, so _please_, we beg for your help."

This was it. All over the clearing, cats exchanged glances. This was the battle they had all felt was coming, the resolution of everything that had been wrong with WindClan over the past few moons. It was a dangerous battle, but Sootclaw was right – all the Clans had to do it together. Everyone could see that. Slatestar, standing beside the ShadowClan warrior, was nodding along in agreement.

There would be no question that ThunderClan would fight. Slatestar would want to meet with Kitetail and Larchstripe soon to discuss the battle, but for now, Kitetail didn't want to be anywhere near his brother. He didn't want to bear the responsibility of this secret, but he couldn't tell him either. So he slunk away, taking the back exit up the quarry wall and into the woods, where Sootclaw wouldn't be able to find him.

**XX XX XX XX**

**A/N**: Bit of a slow chapter but we're building up to the final scene! There are only four chapters (plus an epilogue) left and then we are finally, years later, done. Thanks to **Cloudberry **for reviewing the last chapter and to everyone who reviewed the chapters before that, your support means a lot to me!

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	32. Chapter Thirty

**CHAPTER THIRTY**

The day dawned bright and cold, reminding Sootclaw that newleaf was still a moon away, and that these frigid temperatures would become his constant companions. The air was fresh and crisp, and the wind howled through the pines that towered over ShadowClan camp. The sky was clear, the clouds high and wispy, and the sun shone down over the lake territories, turning their snowbanks into sparkling crystals and covering everything in a hazy, pale light.

But today the grey tom had no time to think about the weather – there was only one thing on his mind: WindClan. Today was the day that they would fight against them. ThunderClan, RiverClan, ShadowClan... they would all stand together in order to take down the darkness-infused cats. They had allowed WindClan to be a threat for long enough, and since they had every reason to believe WindClan's eventual goal was to destroy all the rest, they had no choice but to put an end to it.

To end WindClan.

It was a huge subject that was doubtlessly on everyone's mind, however no one had spoken about it. There was a silent agreement that the only option was win with force, but did that mean killing them? Was there a way to take the darkness out of them without taking their lives and potentially condemning them to the Dark Forest? The answer, lurking in the back of everyone's mind, scary and menacing, was _no_.

Except Sootclaw.

He knew what he had to do. Dawnpaw had told him, though he hadn't heard from her since, and it worried him, causing his stomach to churn with unease. She had told him to take the darkness from their minds, to bring it all inside himself... an action which would save the lives of the WindClan cats but it would also potentially cost him his own. He was terrified to try, though he knew he had to, and he wasn't sure how he would bring up the subject. How could he just tell all these cats, all these mature, older warriors, that he had a gift from StarClan and could try and save WindClan?

They would never believe him.

He pulled himself out of his den. Dawn was breaking and he could see the others beginning to stir. There was a nervous atmosphere in the camp. A patrol of RiverClan warriors, the ones sent to help ShadowClan fight, sat in the centre of camp, sharing some prey Eaglestar had allowed them to catch. Meanwhile, the ShadowClan cats who were awake moved back and forth silently, preparing for the fight to come. ThunderClan was also preparing, and according to Slatestar, the patrol would arrive shortly.

There was movement at the camp entrance and Sootclaw saw Russet slink in. He was trying to act normal and unbothered by being here, but the grey tom could tell the rogue was anxious. It must be strange, coming back to the Clans after everything he had done wrong, especially since there were RiverClan cats here at the moment. As far as Sootclaw could tell, Russet hadn't spoken to the RiverClan force, and had just kept to himself.

Sootclaw had mixed feelings about the large ginger tom. He had initially resented Russet for his rudeness, and been jealous of his closeness to Lilystream, and afterwards he had detested Russet for working with Falconswoop. But Sootclaw knew the influence that Falconswoop could have all too well – he understood why Russet might have felt his only option was to go along with, in order to try and protect RiverClan. If Russet wanted to redeem himself, then a battle against WindClan was the perfect time to do it. Eaglestar had understood this and had valued the addition of even one more strong fighter to their ranks.

And yet, something Russet said was bothering Sootclaw... Russet had asked how to be _better_, but Sootclaw wasn't sure he could teach him. The ShadowClan warrior wasn't even sure that he knew how to be better himself. All he knew was how to survive and how to be selfish. He kept trying to be better, but he couldn't. Someone always got hurt. And now, he had to do the most selfless thing of all... and if he couldn't, cats would die.

Sootclaw shifted his gaze over to the medicine cat's den, where the apprentices were helping Birchcloud prepare herbs. They all looked incredibly solemn, even the usually mischievous Nightpaw. Pigeonpaw as well was missing his customary cheek grin as he worked hard to get the leaves ready. The grey tom padded over to them. He received a lukewarm greeting from Birchcloud – despite everything, the two would never get along. Sootclaw supposed that he deserved it, for idolizing his father so much, though he wished Birchcloud would one day understand that he had changed.

_Maybe after this_, he thought. _If I don't make it..._ At least then they would all know he was nothing like his father.

Fear gripped his chest at the prospect of dying. He didn't know if it would happen, didn't know what the darkness would do to him, or if his mind could withstand it. But it was better in him than anywhere else, better one dead cat than tens of them. "Hey, Pigeonpaw," he said quietly.

His apprentice looked up. There had been an uneasy peace between them, both of them doing their best but not quite sure what that should be. "Yes, Sootclaw?" he asked.

Sootclaw took a deep breath. "If – If something goes wrong today, I want you to know, I am humbled to be your mentor."

Pigeonpaw looked surprised and he tried to grin the shock away. "Yeah, okay," he said, but there was happiness and sadness shining in his eyes, mixing and fighting as he tried to reconcile what Sootclaw had said.

"You'll be fine," said Birchcloud, without looking at him. "You're a good fighter, you have nothing to worry about."

Nightpaw nodded encouragingly, her green eyes bright. "Yeah, you'll be alright, Sootclaw," she mewed reassuringly, and beside her Tanpaw nodded in agreement. Sootclaw tended to think of the apprentices as young, but he had been their age once and he knew what an apprentice could accomplish, so he wholeheartedly appreciated her words.

"Thank you," he said, nodding to them. Then he left the den and was back out into the clearing, which had drastically filled up with more cats, all tense and ready to fight. He saw the fear and worry in their eyes – saw Redfur grooming Hailkit, pressing her whole body against him in case she didn't make it back, saw Sprucetail and Greywing embracing, saw Eaglestar and Milkyfur come in through the entrance together, their tails twined.

His paws led him over to the RiverClan patrol. They talked quietly amongst themselves, nervousness plain on their faces even though they tried to look strong. Toadstar was there, of course, ready to give as many of his lives as needed to ensure the safety of the Clans. The deputy, Reedthroat, sat beside him. Sootclaw nodded to Toadstar as he approached, remembering the kindness the brown tabby had shown him by giving him shelter in RiverClan, and he would always owe him for that. Troutleap and Oaktail were there as well, sitting silently, while Whitestream and Goldenfur were chatting. Sootclaw heard a couple of words. ThunderClan was one, and then there was a muffled laugh as Goldenfur looked sheepish. Hazelthorn wasn't there, however, and Sootclaw could only imagine him staying back at camp to watch over Lilystream and 'their' kits.

"Ready?" he asked Toadstar, trying to hide the bitterness he was now feeling.

"As I'll ever be," said Toadstar tiredly, stretching out. "Haven't fought in a long time. Not since, well, I was here last."

Sootclaw remembered that day vividly, remembered Hailstripe lying so vulnerable on the ground, and then blood spattering from his throat. He also remembered how Dawnpaw had protected him from those memories, how she had tried to save him. "It wasn't your fault," he murmured quietly. "It was Falconswoop's."

Toadstar nodded. "I saw Hailkit earlier. He looks just like his father – a brave warrior."

"Thank you," said Sootclaw. Then he paused. "Toadstar, when you offered me protection from Falconswoop... you never told me _why_. You said you would, when the time was right."

Toadstar let out a dry chuckle. "You might not believe me, but... StarClan told me to help you. I guess they thought you wee something special."

Sootclaw's heart started to beat faster. Maybe Toadstar would understand about his powers. "What if I told you they were right?" he mewed quickly. "What if I am, and – "

But before he could finish that thought, there was a commotion by the entrance as the ThunderClan patrol filtered in. They were led by Slatestar and Larchstripe, with no sign of Nettleclaw. After them came three warriors: Beechclaw, Thickfur, and Owlfeather. Sootclaw frowned. Was that really all they had? Then, following behind them came Kitetail, along with two cats that Sootclaw didn't recognize, a skinny brown tabby and a huge golden tom that looked as strong as any two warriors combined.

Eaglestar and Redfur padded over to greet them and Sootclaw hurriedly tagged along. "Thank you for coming, Slatestar," rumbled Eaglestar. "Who are the two non-Clan cats with you?"

"These are Alder and Beck, two loners who have been staying with us this leafbare," said Slatestar calmly. "It's a long story but I assure you, it was not a decision that was made lightly." He hesitated and then added: "Also, I regret to inform you that Nettleclaw has passed away. Larchstripe is the new deputy of ThunderClan."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Redfur as she and Eaglestar nodded acknowledgement to Larchstripe.

Sootclaw peeled off and found Thickfur. The grey warrior was by himself, sitting by one of the camp walls, his tail curled around his paws. He seemed even more tense than usual, and Sootclaw almost hesitated to approach him, but he knew Thickfur would appreciate what he had to say. "Hi," he mewed.

The ThunderClan warrior looked tired. "Hi Sootclaw."

Sootclaw leaned in, heart beating fast, and whispered: "I've heard from Dawnpaw."

Thickfur started. "What?" he asked, a little too loudly.

"Shh," said Sootclaw, flicking his tail. "Dawnpaw found me again. She said she couldn't talk long – they know when the link is open – but she's alright, Thickfur. She's doing well down there, she's surviving. And she said... she said when WindClan attacked, I could save them."

He narrowed his eyes. "Save them how?"

This was it. Sootclaw had no idea whether or not Thickfur would believe him but he had to try. "I have to use my mind... these powers... to take the darkness from them. But... I don't know how. I don't know if anyone will believe me."

Thickfur just shrugged. "WindClan is possessed by some dark power. I don't think that it's too much of a stretch to say that you have powers as well. It may not be the most comfortable thing to think about – trust me on this – but I don't know if we can deny it."

Sootclaw thought of Toadstar and the way he had been willing to listen to StarClan, how he thought that Sootclaw was special. Thickfur was right. He just had to be brave, step forward, and do it. Who cares if it made everyone look at him differently – there was no point to having these powers if he couldn't do anything with it.

He paused. "Thickfur?"

The grey tabby sighed. He was tired, Sootclaw could tell, and there was something else on his mind. There was a lot going on inside the ThunderClan warrior, but he kept it all pent-up behind hard amber eyes. "Yes?"  
>He tried to figure out how to word it. "I know... I know you and Dawnpaw didn't always see eye to eye, but... even when she was mad, I think she understood that you just wanted the best for her. She's really brave, you know."<p>

Thickfur closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. Sootclaw couldn't tell if his words had had any effect. "I know," he said, at last, and that signalled the end of their conversation.

Sootclaw padded away from him and over to the camp entrance, where he surveyed the assembled cats: ThunderClan, RiverClan, and ShadowClan, all together, all ready to give up their lives in this fight. Kitetail was there, though for whatever reason, his brother refused to meet his eyes. He took a deep breath, and then ran over to the Hazelbranch and leapt up. For a moment, no one noticed him. Then Redfur did, and then Birchcloud and Toadstar, and then sudden;y everyone was staring at him.

This was the moment. He needed to be brave. He _could_ do this, he could save them all, could save WindClan too. He just needed the courage to speak. If Dawnpaw were here, she would tell he could do it. That his love for his Clan would outweigh any fear.

He hoped she was right.

"I'm sorry to be up here," he began. "I know it's not my right to stand on the Hazelbranch, but... I need everyone's attention. _Please_. I have something very important to say."

They were all listening, every eye on him, and no one yelled or doubted him. Sootclaw had the floor, and in this moment, they all respected him. They believed in the importance of what he had to say. Right now, he was the same cat who had stopped Falconswoop and saved Eaglestar. He was the cat who wanted nothing more than to do right by ShadowClan and be the best warrior it had ever seen.

"I have... I have a gift," he mewed, finding his footing at last. He stared down at them, challenging them to question him, to laugh at him. "A gift given to me by StarClan. I was chosen by them to stop Falconswoop, but when I stupidly almost threw it away, and they had to intervene. I ended up with my mind linked to another. She saved me, and she helped me become the cat I am today." His eyes met Thickfur's. Dawnpaw was so important to him, and he didn't care what the grey tabby thought.

Everyone was still silent. He couldn't tell whether or not they believed him. Sootclaw had tried for so long to keep this gift a secret, but he couldn't anymore. Things were changing. The Dark Forest was growing in power. Nothing would be a secret for long, not anymore.

He kept going. "This gift changed my mind. It allowed me to touch the minds of others, and... I think I can remove the darkness from the minds of the WindClan cats. I can take it out of them and put it inside of me. That's the only way to save them – otherwise we would have to kill them, and I can't let us do that. Too much blood would be shed."

It was Toadstar who spoke first, Toadstar who would of course believe him, who had been visited by StarClan himself. "What would happen to you, Sootclaw?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "My mind might be able to withstand it. Or it might not. But that doesn't matter. This is a sacrifice I'm willing to make for the lives of WindClan, and the lives of all of you."

Birchcloud was staring at him, an odd look on his face, a weird mixture of pride and regret and sadness. Kitetail was there beside him, again still averting his gaze, but Sootclaw saw a hint of betrayal. Was Kitetail upset that his brother hadn't shared the secret? It wasn't exactly easy to tell – only he, Dawnpaw, and Thickfur knew, and the last one by necessity.

The ThunderClan and RiverClan cats were all looking at Eaglestar, who was standing near the Hazelbranch, clearly trying to make sense of the situation. "A moon ago I might not have believed you," he said quietly. "But with everything that's going on... no one can deny that there is a darkness in WindClan. But Sootclaw, what you are offering to do, it's dangerous. And you may die."

"This is _all_ dangerous," he said, lashing his tail. "All of you are ready to lay down your lives to protect your Clans. I'm ready to do the same – no matter what it entails."

There was a long pause and then Eaglestar spoke again. "This power of yours. How can you use it. What do you need from us?"

Sootclaw couldn't believe it. They were trusting him, believing in him. For a moment he couldn't breathe. _Oh Dawnpaw_, he thought. _I hope you're right and that I can do this_. "I need to be able to get inside their minds, to pull out the darkness. For that, I need you to keep me safe, but I need to be close to every cat. Fight them, keep them restrained, but don't kill them or seriously injure them... unless you absolutely have to." This had to work.

"Okay," said Eaglestar. He looked at Toadstar, who nodded, and then to Slatestar. The ThunderClan leader sighed and then nodded in affirmation as well. "Sootclaw, we will give you a chance. But if it doesn't work... we have no choice but to kill the WindClan cats."

_There have always been four Clans_, Sootclaw thought. He couldn't let WindClan die. He had to save them. "Yes, Eaglestar," he mewed.

As he leapt down from the branch and back amongst the others, he felt all eyes on him as they moved away, naturally giving him distance. He had shared his most private secret, and now they all knew. They knew he was different, _special_, that StarClan had given him powers and he had hid them. He was no longer just a normal warrior of ShadowClan.

Kitetail was the first to come up to him. "You didn't tell me," he said quietly.

Sootclaw bowed his head. "I didn't tell anyone, until now. I'm sorry, Kitetail. I wish I could have," he said, words ringing with honesty.

"What you're doing is very brave," mewed Kitetail. He pressed his muzzle into Sootclaw's shoulder. "I'm so proud of you."

"It was brave of you to go to ThunderClan," said Sootclaw. "I'm proud of you too. We both did so much, you know? I know I'm not the best cat, but... I want to be selfless. Falconswoop thought I was just like him, but I want to be better than our father. Stronger. Even if it means sacrificing myself."

"Actually, Sootclaw, about our father..." Kitetail began. "The truth is..."

But he was cut off by Pigeonpaw. The grey-and-white tom looked subdued as he approached them and he gave Sootclaw a sheepish look. "Um," he began. "I just wanted to say that... I'm humbled too."

"You don't have to say that," Sootclaw told him. "I don't deserve it."

Pigeonpaw looked taken aback, so he just shook his head and padded away. Sootclaw turned back to Kitetail. "Sorry, what?" he asked. "I don't know what you were saying, I got distracted."

"Don't worry about it," said Kitetail, brushing it off. "It's nothing. Good luck out there today, Sootclaw."

"With you and Birchcloud backing us up, we won't need luck," said Sootclaw, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. He tried to smile but it was lopsided. "I love you, Kitetail."

"I love you too," said Kitetail, and they shared a brief moment of silence before Sootclaw pulled away. Everyone was getting ready to leave. The battle was so soon.

Then:

"Let's go!" barked Eaglestar. Slatestar and Toadstar repeated the order to their own forces, and then everybody was moving out of camp, planning to intercept WindClan on their way over and battle in the open area beside the lake. Sootclaw got caught up in the rush, and for a moment, he felt like just another warrior. But then space opened up around him and he found himself walking alone, by himself even among the pack, with them but not one of them.

**x x x **

Shredtail led them through a heavy gorse thicket, moving with direction even as the branches scratched at his mangled pelt. Dawnpaw tried to ignore them just as he did, but some were particularly bad and she had to hold back a hiss as a sharp one drew a prick of blood from her skin. Worm somehow managed to avoid them all, slithering through them easily, his eyes scanning the brush ahead of them. He and Shredtail were extremely tense, as on edge as Dawnpaw had ever seen them.

They had managed to evade being found, at the cost of Dawnpaw losing Sootclaw once more. All she had ever wanted was to find the tom again and now he was ripped from her. It was devastating, but she knew that if Shredtail's plan worked, she would be back up on the surface again, returned to her friends and family. And yet... Shredtail had said that Sootclaw might not be able to survive this. What was the point of going back if Sootclaw wouldn't be there? Sootclaw, Branchpaw... the cats who had meant the most from her would both be dead.

Without them, what was the point of living?

Maybe she could find a way to be happy. Become best friends with Kitetail, learn to ignore Thickfur's moods, force herself to fall in love with Elmheart. It wouldn't be easy, wouldn't be everything she wanted, but it would be a good life, and it would be worth trading it in order to save WindClan. But Dawnpaw knew, deep down inside of her, she was ready to trade everything just to keep her link with Sootclaw going. Living without it had been torturous – she never wanted to do that again.

"Hurry up," hissed Shredtail, and Dawnpaw realized that she fallen behind. She looked at him apologetically and then pushed herself forward through the thicket. Her heart was beating so hard she thought she might pass out, but somehow she kept herself together. After moons of travelling in the Dark Forest, this was finally it. She was finally going to go home.

She gave Shredtail an odd look. He scared her, made her uneasy, and yet he was her only hope, and over their time together she had come to trust and respect him. It would be weird to go back to ThunderClan, where she would be surrounded by those who cared for her, not following along behind the most dangerous cat of all out of necessity. Dawnpaw hated to admit it, but she would miss him, in a strange way. He had saved her, after all. Then Dawnpaw glanced over to where Worm was slithering through the branches. She would be glad to be away from him, away from the pity and disgust he awoke in her chest.

Eventually they made it through the thicket and into a far more open area of the forest that almost took Dawnpaw's breath away. The Dark Forest scared her, but this place... somehow it managed to be beautiful at the same time as it was terrible. Huge trees formed rows as they towered up into the air, their canopies melding with the grey sky. The space between the rows was covered in a soft layer of fallen leaves, with no other bracken in sight. As they padded down one paths carved by these trees, Dawnpaw held her breath. She felt as though she was in a sacred, hallowed space, but couldn't understand how the Dark Forest would have one of those.

In the mist between the trees she thought she saw the outlines of cats, sliding along, whispering to her, but the words never managed to reach her through the still air. Some faces flashed in the mist, familiar ones, mutilated and gruesome, but Dawnpaw just took a deep breath and ignored them. It was all a trick. Her friends and loved ones were safe. Branchpaw was in StarClan, where he belonged, and Sootclaw was still alive, working hard to save his Clan. She knew she had been asking a lot of him, and she wished she could be there to encourage, to say: _You can do this. You are capable. You are loved_.

Finally the row of trees gave way to a grove, encircled by the same huge trunks. In the centre of the grove was a large stone, a flat surface but a rough base that seemed to merge with the dark soil. The carpet of leaves had been replaced by dirt, cold and hard underneath her paws. The air, which had been mild on their way over, was now freezing, but Dawnpaw hardly cared. She was struck by a sense of foreboding and awe, and a cold trickle of dread in her heart. She wasn't supposed to be here.

"What is this place?" Dawnpaw asked, with a whisper.

Worm came up behind her, running his tongue over his muzzle. "This is the altar," he said, voice filled with an excitement that made Dawnpaw more worried than anything.

She looked over at Shredtail, sure he would give her a better answer. "The altar?"

"This is where cats come when they die," he said quietly, not looking at her, his eyes fixed on the dark stone. "When they first enter the Dark Forest."

_Who are you expecting to die,_ Dawnpaw wanted to ask, but the answer came to her like a punch in the gut and she couldn't believe she hadn't realized it before. "Sootclaw. But... I thought... You said he might not make it, but I thought he would go to StarClan."

Shredtail shook his head. "The darkness in him will drag him down here. And when he comes down, the boundary between our world and yours will be open. Just for a moment, but a moment is all you need."

"All I need?" said Dawnpaw, repeating his words while she worked through it. When she finally realized what he meant, she was filled with anger and fear and a heavy sense of betrayal. "I'm supposed to go up when he comes down."

Shredtail nodded. "Sootclaw will die saving WindClan, and you will return to the forest in his place. He will be stuck down here, but he will be a hero."

"But that's not fair!" Dawnpaw insisted, the fear and anger now taking over her. She was unable to move, frozen to the ground, realizing that by asking Sootclaw to use his power to save WindClan, she had effectively asked him to condemn himself to darkness. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Shredtail's gaze was cold. "Like I said earlier – if I had told you the truth, you wouldn't have come with me. This is the _only_ way," he impressed upon her. "Sootclaw has done his work. But you are needed up there, needed to save the Clans."

"What comes next?" asked Dawnpaw, her voice small.

"The Dark Forest never stops. They will keep coming after the Clans, keep trying to find new ways to defeat them. But you are strong, with and without your power. They need you," he explained.

"Not stronger than Sootclaw," she hissed. The ShadowClan warrior was the strongest cat she knew. He had always been there for her, helping her with Branchpaw, and having the bravery to defeat Falconswoop. How could Dawnpaw do anything that he couldn't?

Shredtail glared at her. "They need you," he repeated coldly, and that seemed to be the end of the discussion, at least for him. But Dawnpaw didn't want the discussion to be over. She wanted to yell and scream, she wanted to fight, she wanted to sacrifice herself in Sootclaw's place.

Sootclaw was going to die, and she had to go on without him.

She let out a sob, and then another, letting her sadness take over her body, which thrashed violently. She sunk to the ground, head pressing against the dirt. This couldn't be real. She wouldn't let it. She had worked so hard, come so far, so desperate to see Sootclaw again and to tell him that she loved him. It was all she had wanted. She couldn't save the Clans alone, she _needed _him. Shredtail had lied to her. He had kept this from her, knowing it was the only way, knowing that if Dawnpaw knew the truth, she would refuse. The sobs kept coming from her open mouth and she slumped against the earth. Shredtail and Worm looked away, trying to give her as much dignity as they could.

Sootclaw was going to die.

"Shredtail?" she asked, quietly, weakly.

"Yes, Dawnpaw?" he mewed, his voice unusually gentle.

The ginger she-cat let out another sob. "Will you tell Sootclaw that... that I love him?"

Shredtail hesitated a moment and then bowed his head. "Of course," he said, still looking away.

She wasn't done. "And will you... will you help him get to StarClan?" Dawnpaw asked in a small voice.

"You know I can't do that," said Shredtail abruptly. "StarClan couldn't take you – what makes you think they would accept a cat who came down to the Dark Forest the proper way? You know what they say – for every reaction, an equal reaction."

"I don't care," snapped Dawnpaw. "Nothing matters unless Sootclaw is safe. That's where he deserves to be. In StarClan."

"Alright." Shredtail relented, his posture softening. "I'll see what I can do, but I can't make any promises."

"Okay," said Dawnpaw, pulling herself to her paws. Her ginger pelt was covered in dirt and her face must have looked a mess, but she had to be strong. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "What now?"

Shredtail looked grimly at the altar. "They will have started fighting WindClan right about now. Sootclaw will bravely take all the darkness inside himself, saving their lives, and then it will be too much for him. He will succumb. All we have to do is wait."

.

They waited for a very long time, long enough that Dawnpaw was starting to get her hopes up that something had changed and Sootclaw would not be coming down to the Dark Forest after all, but Shredtail reassured her – not that it was very reassuring at all – that the darkness might take a little time to work, depending on how strong Sootclaw was and how long his mind could resist.

She didn't know how long they were there. Time was different down here than above. It could have been hours. It could have been days – though Dawnpaw doubted it was that long. The world around them was silent. Shredtail said nothing – he was content to sit there, waiting, as though he was made of the same stone as the altar.

And then, out of nowhere, light filtered down onto the stone, and there was a terrible splitting noise, like the earth was coming apart underneath her paws, though nothing moved. It grated on Dawnpaw's ears, but she swallowed and braced herself. Shredtail leapt to his paws.

It was time.

**XX XX XX XX**

**A/N:** Apologies for typos, just really wanted to get this chapter posted! Three left after this, plus the next one is done so you'll probably see it Sunday. (Then two more chapters, then an epilogue, then an author's note... this might be done by next weekend! And that means I get to start working on the next one, which is super super scary but also really exciting).

**Minatu** - I'm gonna get into Thickfur's backstory (like, really into it) next book :D Though he doesn't get a POV in it. Also the chapters just pretty much get sadder from here on out, so... get ready. Elmheart is in the next book, though, so at least there's that!

**Cloudberry** - Thank you! :) I plan to keep writing haha, apparently no matter how long it takes, I'm going to get this trilogy done. (I'm like the George R R Martin of Warriors fics)

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	33. Chapter Thirty-One

**CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE**

They would be fighting WindClan right about now.

Fogpaw sat at the edge of the lake, her paws just about touching the ice that was covering the expanse of water. The sand underneath the rest of her was speckled with snow, chilling her paws and skin. The air was cold, but she barely felt it and it was not nearly as biting as the day before, and the sun shone down with bright light that reflected blindingly off the lake. She drank in the air, the familiar scents of RiverClan, of sand and reeds and fish, so comforting compared to the terrible scent of WindClan to which she had become accustomed.

She tried to hear across the lake, tried to send her sense out over its depths and onto the other side, where the Clans would be meeting, but all she could hear was the steady churning of the water underneath the thin layer of ice. It even sounded cold, which was an odd realization for her, the idea that she could detect feeling from sound. Now that she was safe again, the grey she-cat was starting to experiment with the power the darkness had given her, in order to fully understand it. It was exciting, all the things she could do, but still Fogpaw wished it had never happened at all. It hadn't been worth dying for.

Fogpaw wondered if they were killing the WindClan cats. As far as she knew there was no other way to get rid of the darkness but to kill the cats, no way to save their lives without jeopardizing others. She wanted to mourn their deaths, wanted to be sad over what had to happen, but she found that she just couldn't reach the emotion. Feelings were tiring and draining and it exhausted her to try for them. Instead, the she-cat just felt numb. At night she lay in her nest, awake, reading the dreams of others with tired disinterest. Nothing in the Clan was a secret to her anymore. Goldenfur had a crush on a ThunderClan tom named Owlfeather. Toadstar was filled with insecurities about his leadership. Lilystream's kits weren't actually Hazelthorn's, as she claimed. Any other cat might have been excited about the potential for gossip, but Fogpaw just didn't care.

And she hated it.

She did, however, care about the outcome of this battle. She was angry that Toadstar hadn't let her fight, though she supposed he had good reason. Fogpaw wanted to take revenge on the cats that had tormented and tortured her for so long, but deep inside she knew that they were stronger. Still, her powers would have made her useful against them, but every part of her encouraged her to hide her powers. Telling the others would just invite questions that she didn't want to deal with. Instead, she would just focus on her training and become a warrior and try and forget that any of this had ever happened.

Stripedpaw would be training too. Patchnose had agreed to take on the skinny tom as RiverClan's new medicine cat apprentice. Stripedpaw seemed excited, though nervous, as he had no substantial training – Stormtail had been too far gone in the darkness by the time Stripedpaw had become his apprentice. It irked Fogpaw to see Stripedpaw accepted into the Clan, especially in such an important position. He was so weak, so incompetent... but Toadstar wanted to give him a chance.

It seemed like everything was irking her lately.

"Mind if I sit?" asked an unfamiliar voice.

Fogpaw redacted her earlier statement – some things in the Clan were still a secret to her, specifically one thing: Grainheart.

"Go ahead," she said, flicking her tail at the sand beside her. Grainheart sat himself down, his huge form towering over hers. The large golden tabby looked tired, his eyes staring out sadly over the lake. He was a mystery to her, the one mind she couldn't hear. According to Toadstar, he was a loner of Clan descent who had joined them, but Fogpaw knew that there had to be something more to. What made his mind so special that it kept her powers out?

"Thank you," he rumbled in his deep voice. The tom wrapped his tail around his paws, settling comfortably into the sand. "What brings you out here?"

"Thinking about the battle," muttered Fogpaw, who didn't really appreciate being asked questions. She had become so irritable lately – she hated it. She used to be filled with so much energy and a powerful will to live, and now she was bothered by everything. Fogpaw knew it was the darkness making her angry. Even if it hadn't taken over her, it was still affecting her mind, turning her sunny disposition into something far more grey.

To her surprise, Grainheart didn't tell her off or chide her for thinking of something so morbid for a young apprentice. He seemed to respect her, which was a new feeling for Fogpaw. Stripedpaw looked up to her in childish awe, while everyone seemed to treat her like she was fragile. But Grainheart was careful with his words and he seemed like he was actually listening.

"You're angry," he guessed.

"It doesn't take a mind-reader to know that," Fogpaw said, rolling her eyes. He was right. She was angry. She was angry at herself, at Stripedpaw, at WindClan, at Toadstar, at Reedthroat, at Rainpaw... at _everyone_. "I don't know how to go back to normal," she admitted grudgingly. "And no one will talk to me about it."

"There is no normal anymore," Grainheart told her. "This is your new normal and you just have to figure out how to live with it. I did."

His words confused her and instead of responding, Fogpaw took the time to try and figure out what was so strange about him. Whenever she tried to listen to his thoughts, her hearing just bounced off a buzzing noise in his brain, as if everything in his mind was simply white noise. But she could get through that... right? She circled around the outside of it, looking for a way in in far more detail than she had before. It was all walled off, except...

Except a tiny little crack where she felt the threads of his mind hang bare, and she slipped in there, and suddenly all of his thoughts were engulfing her at once. Fogpaw couldn't breathe. She gasped for air, suffocating, smothered by the emotion, the love and loss and weariness, until at last they pushed her out and the wall sealed up behind her.

Grainheart was staring at her. "Want to talk about that?" he asked, and there was no doubt in her mind that he had noticed.

"How did you know?" she asked, panting, desperate for air and still feeling as though her lungs were being squeezed to a pulp.

He laughed, a tired laugh, though not a mean one. He didn't seem angry that she had pushed her way into his mind, only exhausted about it, and a little intrigued. "I've used my mind before, Fogpaw. I don't mean in the way everyone else does – I mean in the way that you do. I know all about the powers that some cats can have, the possibilities with it. I don't anymore – that chapter of my life is over – but for the longest time, I did..."

She blinked, unaware that other powers like hers existed. "You were like me?" she asked, intrigued despite herself, even though she had planned to be annoyed by Grainheart.

"Not exactly," he said. "My mind was linked to a very close friend of mine. We could send each other thoughts – we could even go into each other's minds if we wanted to, but we didn't unless it was an emergency, as we respected each other as well. It's amazing, the closeness that that can give you, the sense of support and stability."

Fogpaw frowned. "Why are you telling me all this?"

Grainstar nodded, acknowledging her question as a good one. "Because when you attempted to get into my mind and understand me, I also got a sense of you. I can tell that you're tired, that you're numb, that you're angry that you feel this way. You don't want this power but you're stuck with it and it's tearing you away from your friends and family."

He was right. Fogpaw let out a hiss of frustration. She had been interested in finding out more about him, not in letting him understand her. Now she was at a disadvantage and knew nothing about him, while he held all the power. "I can't sleep," she admitted, and as angry as she had been initially, Fogpaw had to admit that it was kind of nice to tell someone about her ability, someone who would understand. "I died, over in WindClan, and somehow I came back to life, and now I can't sleep and I can barely feel, and I _hate _it."

Grainheart pressed his tail against her flank. "It's alright," he mewed. "It's okay. Calm down. I know it's hard, but you can do this. I barely sleep either. I close my eyes, but I don't feel rested. I don't feel anything. I don't want to be here either, but for some reason I am. I should be in StarClan, but I'm not."

Fogpaw frowned. "What?"

Grainheart sighed. "Fogpaw, I feel like you need help understanding what has been done to you – and who you are becoming, and I can help you. But first... I want to tell you about myself. Because I'm tired and numb too, and opening up to someone would be nice."

The grey she-cats frown deepened. She didn't exactly want to have all of Grainheart's burdens placed on her shoulders, but she knew that she did need his help. If he could help her learn to control the darkness and overcome the anger it gave her... that was all Fogpaw wanted. She wanted to be better again, not like this. He had called it her new normal, but she hated it. "You'll help me?" she asked, in a quiet, weak voice that made her cringe. Opening up to someone... it was nice. And she was also very curious to know more about him as well.

Grainheart nodded. "You don't have to be alone."

"Okay," said Fogpaw, trying not to let her voice sound so shaky. "Alright. Yes."

He smiled and touched his tail to her flank again before he began to speak. "Toadstar and Reedthroat know the basics of this, who I am really, but not the entirety of it. It's going to be hard to believe."

Fogpaw shrugged. "I died and came back to life," she said bleakly. "I'll believe anything."

Grainheart chuckled weakly. "Alright then," he said, and then launched into his story. "My real name is Grainstar. I was the leader of RiverClan when Rowanstar was just a kit. I always thought I was a good leader, but I couldn't have been without the help of my best friend Sleetfur. He almost died as an apprentice... StarClan pushed our minds together and I used my strength to save him. After that, we were inseparable. But for everything StarClan does, the Dark Forest seems to have an answer... Sleetfur's only kit, Mistkit, was kidnapped by a warrior who had gone mad. The Dark Forest had whispered promises to him and so he took Mistkit and ran to the Twolegplace. I led a patrol to find her... and we never returned."

Fogpaw didn't realize had closely she had been listening, and she let out a cough to try and seem a little less interested. "What happened?"

Grainstar shrugged. "I don't really know," he said softly. "I remember dying, but it's vague and fuzzy. I thought I would go to StarClan, but... I never made it."

"Why not?" she asked, fear suddenly gripping her. What if she never made it to StarClan as well?

"I wish I knew," he mewed. "Maybe I was too far away. Still, everyone I love is there... and for some terrible reason, I'm stuck down here."

Fogpaw didn't know what to say to that. His story was tragic, but hers was as well. Maybe they could just be sad together. It was comforting, in a way. She didn't have to act happy, like everything was alright. She could just... be.

"Well, you get to be stuck with me," she said, forcing a laugh, hoping he appreciated the dark humour. She didn't know how to do any other kind. Not anymore.

**x x x**

They met WindClan by the lake, in the space where the ThunderClan and ShadowClan borders met. On one side of them was the water, covered in ice, cold and glittering, and on the other was a line of trees, tall and dark and foreboding. At the top of a small hill, Slatestar signalled a halt, and everyone fell in line. Standing barely fifty feet away were the WindClan cats, lead by Willowstar. They were all there, from apprentices to elders, each looking as strong as three normal warriors. A terrible, burning stench came from them, brought by the wind to the assembled army.

The scent of darkness.

Willowstar's lip curled up into a sneer. "So many of you!" she called out. "I wasn't expecting ShadowClan to be such cowards."

Beside him, Sootclaw saw Reedthroat rearing with anger, ready to fight. "I'll kill her," he hissed. "I don't even care. I'll do it. I want to so badly..." But he saw Sootclaw looking at him and relented. They both knew he wouldn't, no matter how much he wanted.

"We will defeat you," said Toadstar calmly. "Together we are strong, even against whatever darkness pervades you."

The WindClan leader sneered. "We'll see," she said, with a barking laugh. "This darkness makes us strong, Toadstar, too strong for even three Clans to handle." Then she flicked her tail, and with a terrible yowl, leapt forward.

The WindClan cats poured down the opposing hill toward them, and then the assembled Clan cats rushed down the slope, until they all met in the centre. Sootclaw stood at the top, frozen. He knew what he had asked his Clan to do – he had asked them to refrain from killing cats who definitely had no qualms killing _them_. He had to do this fast, or lives would be lost for nothing.

So he took a deep breath, and ran down.

At first he was overwhelmed. Cats were fighting _everything_, scratching and yowling in pain, screaming and hissing, and there was movement. He ducked as a cat leapt over him, and had to dodge as a pair of them – Beechclaw and Rootfur – came rolling into him. Rootfur was smaller, but he seemed so much stronger, Beechclaw doing everything in his power to avoid having his throat torn out. Owlfeather showed up behind him, trying to pull the WindClan cat off of his Clanmate. Seedfur was there too, but even with the three of them, they struggled to keep Rootfur at bay.

"Sootclaw!" snarled Beechclaw, writhing from side to side to avoid the WindClan tom's fangs, "Do your thing, whatever it is!'

Right, right. Sootclaw closed his eyes and tried to concentrate, tried to ignore the sounds of fighting and the scent of darkness and blood. It was just his mind, glowing in the blackness. He felt the space where Dawnpaw was, and he realized he needed to leave his own mind to find theirs. She had done it find him, so he had to have faith. Sootclaw took a deep breath and launched himself into the darkness, and to his surprise...

He didn't fall. He floated. He saw, around him, lights that were covered in tendrils of darkness. Some were so very far away, but there was one right beside him, pulsating with sickness. Rootfur. He pushed himself through the darkness, fighting the fear, and reached Rootfur's mind – and immediately was thrown out by the force of the sweet, sickly evil inside. It was too much for him to bear.

He had try again. He heard Beechclaw cry out in pain but couldn't dare to open his eyes, so he went back to Rootfur and reached inside once again, this time forcing himself to stay in the tom's mind. He saw the darkness, threads of it over every once-silver surface, and pulled them out in his paws. They wanted to slip, wanted to slide away, but he held strong. They were tightly fastened around Rootfur, but Sootclaw was stronger. He had to do this. It was the only way. He was selfless and strong and he would save them _all_.

The threads gave way and he fell back, clutching the darkness inside of him. He felt it slip inside his mind, spreading out, tickling him, whispering to him, crooning promises, but he pushed it away. His mind was stronger than average. If anyone could stand this, could survive it, it was Sootclaw.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Beechclaw lying on the ground, panting and exhausted, with Owlfeather and Seedfur slumped over him. Rootfur was there, disoriented as if he had just woken from a long sleep. He blinked up at them. "What happened?"

"Go," said Owlfeather wearily, pointing at the back lines where the medicine cats stood in wait. "They'll explain everything."

Sootclaw nodded along. He felt listless and sick, the darkness knocking around in his head. It knew it couldn't infect it, so it buzzed like a bee in his brain, driving him crazy, driving him _insane_.

Beechclaw scrambled to his paws. "You alright?" he asked gruffly.

"Yeah," lied Sootclaw. "Yeah, I'm fine." He took a moment to recover.

Then it was on to the next one. Beechclaw went back to the medicine cats, and Owlfeather and Seedfur threw themselves back into the fray. Sootclaw pushed his way through the fighting cats, looking for another from whom he could pull the darkness. At the edge of the battle, he found Greywing and Toadstar working together to subdue Tansypaw. Two competent warriors needed for one small apprentice. The darkness really was incredible.

"I'm here," he directed. "Keep her still." They obliged, and Sootclaw closed his eyes, letting himself wander back into the space outside his mind. He felt the darkness pulling him back, tiring him, making him want to fail. But he found her, and he found the darkness, and he _pulled_ it out. It snapped and rushed into him, and he bit back a cry of pain as he struggled to stay on his feet. _Sootclaw_, it whispered. _You could have everything, we could give you everything_.

_No_, he told it, fighting it, berating it.

Tansypaw opened her eyes. "What's... where am I?" she asked.

Toadstar placed his tail on Sootclaw's flank. "Looks like StarClan was right," he mewed gruffly.

_I love your daughter_, Sootclaw wanted to blurt out, even though it wasn't the time. Maybe after this, maybe... maybe RiverClan might have a place for him. No. He couldn't think like that. ShadowClan was his home. He needed to concentrate. "Thank you," was all he said.

He kept going. Faces started to blur in front of him as he went from WindClan cat to WindClan cat, each one held down by two to four warriors. They all looked the same after a while, though the names appeared to him. Stormtail, Cedarpelt, Cloudstorm, Mottledfur, Gorsetooth... each one made him more tired, more drained, until all he wanted to do was lie down and sleep forever. The darkness wanted to drag him down but he resisted, resisted because he had to, because he was a champion of StarClan and he would give his life to save these cats.

_I am selfless_, he thought, and it pushed the darkness away.

There weren't many left. The line with the medicine cats kept getting bigger and the crowd in front of him was getting smaller and smaller. Soon only four cats remained: Frostpool, Icetail, Swiftfang... and Willowstar. There were currently six warriors fighting Willowstar, holding her at bay. Thickfur was there, snapping at her menacingly. Across from him, Eaglestar and Redfur paced, ready for any movement she might make. Troutleap was on her back, claws raking her skin, but Willowstar didn't seem to care. Larchstripe and Oaktail were there too, pushing her around. Willowstar was currently trying to dig her claws into Oaktail's neck, and he was barely ducking out of the way in time.

Her eyes flashed when she saw Sootclaw. "Another one? How many do you need to kill me?"

"I'm not here to kill you," he said calmly. "I'm here to save you."

She laughed. "I'd like to see you try."

So he tried, closing his eyes and finding her mind, but what he saw scared him more than anything. Willowstar's mind was a hub of activity, pulses and tendrils of darkness that had all but destroyed her original mind. He had no idea how much was left of her, but he had to try and save her. With a deep breath, Sootclaw pulled at the darkness. It gave away easily, but not in defeat – it wrapped around him, choking him, pulling him down. He tried to open his eyes but darkness spotted his vision. He couldn't breath. This was it, this was it, it was taking over his mind and he was going to die...

Sootclaw sunk to the ground. "Help!" he gasped, trying to see, but the world around him was a blur.

He was going to die and he had never told Dawnpaw his feelings, never apologized to Lilystream... there were so many things he wanted to do first.

But this was it.

Then he felt a presence at his side, a warmth pushing against his flank. "I'm here," said a familiar voice. "Give it to me. The darkness. I can take it. Please."

Sootclaw shook his head. "I can't, you'll die..."

"Sootclaw," the voice insisted. "I won't let you die. I can handle this. I promise."

So he did. He found the mind next to him, and with his last breath, delved into it and poured all of the darkness he had accumulated until now. He let out half of it, not wanting to subject his rescuer to all of it. All together, it would kill them. Half of it – they could survive, if they were strong enough. So he let it pour out, let it spread, and felt relieve flow through him as breath came back into his lungs. His energy returned. He was still here.

_I'm alive._

He opened his eyes and got to his paws and turned to the cat beside him.

Russet.

The ginger tom had his eyes closed. His teeth were gritted and his claws were churning up the dirt below him as he tried to stomach the darkness. Sootclaw knew if there was anything else strong enough to handle it, it was Russet. He might have made mistakes, but he was immensely powerful. The rogue let out a terrible cry, and then his eyes flew open as he let out a few deep breaths.

"Thank you," murmured Sootclaw. Their eyes met and for a moment he finally understood everything about Russet, the reasoning behind his actions, the desire to be strong, the fear of weakness, the need to protect those he cared about. "You saved my life."

"You gave me the chance," said Russet softly. "It was the least I could do. "

The chance to be better.

They both turned to look at the battlefield. Sootclaw never thought he would be standing here with Russet, but he owed the tom his life. There was a moment of silence and then Russet spoke again, suddenly, looking off into the distance. "I killed one of them in the first battle. I couldn't stomach it. Killers are cowards, and I refuse to be like that. I want to... I want to protect the weak. To uphold the code. All I want is to say that in front of StarClan."

Sootclaw didn't know if any of the Clans would accept Russet, if he would ever receive his name, so he said the kindest thing he could think of. "StarClan already knows; they don't need a ceremony. They can see your heart."

"I hope so," said Russet softly. He sighed. "Anyway, you need to go. There's still more work to do."

Three cats left. With a lot of the darkness gone from his mind, Sootclaw knew he could take the last few. He leapt back into the fray, barely hesitating to reach their minds and rip the darkness out. He didn't give it a chance to wrap around him – he showed it in the bottom of his mind and locked it up. It couldn't hurt him anymore. He wouldn't let it. Frostpool, Icetail, Swiftfang – he took the darkness from them all and he hid it away inside himself. And when it was done, he could barely feel it.

Done.

The fight was over. Everywhere he looked, cats were nursing their wounds, but everyone seemed to be alive. Everyone but... his heart plummeted. Everyone but Seedfur. She lay on the ground, blood oozing from her wounds. Greywing sat beside her, hunched over in sadness, mourning. Sootlaw mourned too.

WindClan was grouped together, still trying to wrap their heads around what had happened. Willowstar was talking to Eaglestar, who was explaining the whole situation to her, what had happened with the darkness, and she was nodding along. She looked so small and vulnerable, nothing like the cat that had challenged Sootclaw and almost killed him.

He padded up toward the back lines, where everyone was gathered to recover, except for the few collecting Seedfur's body. Immediately, Kitetail rushed over to him, pressing himself against his brother's pelt. "You survived!"

Sootclaw nodded. "It was close," he admitted. "Russet saved me."

They were all staring at him in wonder, he realized, wonder and awe and happiness. He felt happy, like he had saved them all, but he knew how close it had been. He looked over at Russet and saw the pain in his eyes and knew that if it weren't for Russet, Sootclaw and many others would be dead. He had been selfless, but he hadn't done it alone.

Eaglestar broke away to come talk to him. "Sootclaw," he mewed. "You saved us – and you saved them. Let's go home – you can tell me everything on the way."

Weary and exhausted, Sootclaw obliged.

**XX XX XX XX**

**A/N:** Aaaaahh! The battle's done! And nothing sad happened this chapter (well... apart from Seedfur), but that only means you're going to be even more devastated in the next two chapters. It's a weird feeling, having a scene in your head for so long and then finally writing it out. And the Fogpaw scene is there because I wanted to tie up her and Grain's stories (at least a little) in order to prepare for the next book. The next chapter is already written and I'm going to start on the last one (eep!) once I post this.

**Coqui's Song** - I knew you were still out there somewhere, thanks for coming back!

**Minatu-Corneille** - Dawnpaw's life can pretty much only improve from here! Sad to hear you don't like Sootclaw but I guess he has enough fans :P And he didn't really get to do too much earlier in the book as well.

**Cloudberry101** - Dawnheart is a good name, hmm ;) And wait, did you actually make a clay thing of him? That's awesome!

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	34. Chapter Thirty-Two

**CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO**

The way back to camp was solemn. Russet followed along with the ShadowClan cats, padding alone behind Greywing and Redfur, who were carrying Seedfur's limp form over their backs. Just looking at the body made his stomach churn with disgust. Death, as it turned out, was not his friend. He couldn't imagine the sorrow her Clanmates must be feeling, but at the same time, he knew that if it weren't for him and Sootclaw, there would have been many more deaths today. By allowing the grey warrior to place some of the darkness in his mind, Russet had ensured they would win the battle. The others knew it, knew it but still they were uncomfortable looking at him. The ginger tom had thought saving them would mean redemption, but the air was still heavy with distrust.

Behind him walked the RiverClan cats. Many of them seemed uncomfortable with had had just happened, almost refusing to believe that WindClan had really been defeated, and Toadstar had declared that they would stay in ShadowClan camp overnight just to make sure that WindClan wasn't just pretending. It was an unlikely possibility, but it was still on the table, though Russet had difficulty believing that the dazed, meek cats who had emerged from the darkness were simply faking it. With the darkness in his mind, he believed Sootclaw wholeheartedly, knowing the pain it caused. It buzzed with every step he took, but he was strong. He could resist it.

But he couldn't fault the others for not entirely believing Sootclaw. After all, Russet had found it hard to believe when Sootclaw had leapt up and announced his power to all of them. It seemed like something out of a kit's tale, and Russet had initially found himself incredibly jealous of the ShadowClan – brave, respected, strong, and now also chosen by StarClan as one of their champions. But the more Russet thought about it, the more he realized it was also a curse. Everyone was starting to look at Sootclaw oddly, some in awe, but mostly in fear. Sootclaw wasn't normal anymore, and after spending moons away from the Clans, all Russet wanted to do... was be normal.

And to be better than he had been before.

So when Russet had seen Sootclaw keel over, falling against the ground, barely able to contain the darkness inside of him, he knew he needed to help. Just fighting WindClan wasn't enough. He had to forgive his rival, had to release his enmity, and potentially sacrifice his own life. The ginger tom was terrified of death, but in that moment... if he hadn't offered to help Sootclaw, he never would have been able to live with himself.

The alternative was living with the darkness.

It swam around in his mind, whispering to him, taking the form of Falconswoop and speaking in his voice. Russet struggled with it, struggled to keep it locked down. It made his whole body itch, but he wouldn't give in. He wasn't like the WindClan cats, who had no idea what was going on. He was strong. He was prepared to fight it. Then the darkness shifted, taking on the voice of Baron, chiding him, berating him, promising him great power.

_I am not like you_, Russet thought. _I am not a killer. I'm a hero now._

A hero, but an unrecognized one. The thought weighed him down until he realized that Toadstar had padded up to walk beside him as they filed through the pine forest that was ShadowClan's territory. The black tom's expression was carefully neutral. "You did a brave thing back there," he said slowly.

Russet shrugged, knowing he had to act humble if he wanted a chance to get back into RiverClan. He was a hero, but he also had a lot to learn and a lot to do if he wanted to make up for his past transgressions. "It was the right thing to do," he mewed. "I didn't want anyone else to die." He paused. "I never wanted anyone to die."

Toadstar let out a sigh. "Russet, what you did in RiverClan..."

Russet cut him off. "I know it was wrong, Toadstar, and I know I let you down. I should have been stronger. But I was terrified of Falconswoop. I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to protect our Clan, but... it's true that I was envious of his power."

"Are you still?" asked Toadstar.

Russet shook his head. "I've realized that I'm not a killer. I don't want to hurt anyone. I do want to be strong, but... Real strength comes from protecting the weak, from upholding the warrior code, from making sacrifices and always pushing yourself to be better." The words sounded cheesy and rehearsed, but only because Russet had gone over them so many times in his head, impressing them upon himself. He honestly believed it, honestly thought he could channel his drive and ambition into something positive.

"Those are compelling words," mewed Toadstar, "but I don't know how I could trust you to keep them."

The RiverClan leader made a good point – Russet had no right to ask for his trust, not after what he had done. "I guess you can't," he said at length. "But I'm asking you to try."

Toadstar blinked and Russet saw something oddly like affection and pride welling up in his eyes. Then the black tom turned away. "You've really grown up," he said quietly. "As an apprentice, you never would have said any of this."

"I was mouse-brained," said Russet with a bleak chuckle. "But Toadstar, I am serious... I want nothing more than to come back to RiverClan."

"Okay," said Toadstar quietly. He looked extremely pensive as he swung his head back to stare at the massive ginger tom beside him. "On a provisional basis, of course, and without your warrior name until you prove yourself. But you can come back."

Russet's heart leaped with happiness and he thought it might swell out of his chest. He felt like dancing around and laughing, but it was too sombre a time. The excitement from Toadstar's words blasted through his mind, pushing back the darkness and granting him some reprieve. Visions filled his head – hunting with Lilypaw, and moons later, showing their kits how to hunt too; lazily sharing tongues with Hazelpaw and Goldenfur; and one day working his way up to deputy, quickly followed by leader. _Russetstar_, he thought.

And he was happy.

.

Once back in camp, they settled Seedfur's body down near the medicine cat's den, grieving before they had to bury her. Russet found himself hanging around with the RiverClan cats still, chatting with them, making small talk after Toadstar announced his intention to let Russet go back with them later. He asked all sorts of questions about what was happening, about the apprentices. Some of the things made him happy: Goldenfur and Hazelthorn were warriors now, Swampclaw had finally retired to be an elder. Some things made him sad – learning that Lilystream had bore Hazelthorn's kits was one of them, though Troutleap had made a point of telling him that the two weren't actually in love.

He had known since coming back that Toadstripe had become Toadstar, but it was now that he learned the circumstances and sadness of Rowanstar's death, and that Reedthroat had been selected as deputy. It was a good choice; Russet approved. Reedthroat was a strong warrior and Russet had always looked up to him.

After a while, he got to his paws and announced that he was going to go for a hunt. He wanted some time alone, and he also wanted to get back in the swing of things – hunting, patrolling, all of the activities the Clan cats did. Maybe, stalking his prey through moderately familiar territory, he could pretend he was a warrior again. It was fair of Toadstar to reserve his name until Russet had proven himself, but he wanted it so badly.

It wasn't long after Russet left camp that he came upon a familiar scent –

And stopped dead in his tracks.

Two cats stood in front of him, terribly familiar, their mouths twisted up into cruel grins. One was wickedly handsome with cold eyes, the other a tangled mess of fury. Flynn and Carrionpaw.

Baron's lieutenants.

They had followed him after all.

"Hello, Russet," said Flynn casually, but his whole body was tense as he waited for Russet to show any signs of movement. "Fancy meeting you here."

"You followed me," said Russet quietly. His eyes scanned from side to side. He could make a break for it, but that would lead them right back to ShadowClan camp – though he supposed they must already know about it.

"Of course," said Carrionpaw, baring his fangs. "Baron told you he was... _interested_."

"Why?" asked Russet. "To kill me?" Not now, not when he was so close to becoming a RiverClan warrior, not when he had finally figured himself out.

"No, don't be ridiculous," said Flynn. "You're not worth that much of our time. A failed member of Baron's crew, wandering around lost and confused? No."

"Then what?" asked Russet angrily. "And where's Baron?"

There was a silence and he felt the fur on the back of his neck prickle. He turned slowly, terrified, and there behind him stood the rogue king himself, massive and powerful. His head cocked to the side as he regarded Russet, his eyes cold and deadly. "Hello again, Russet."

Russet took a step backward, paws crunching against the snow, but Flynn and Carrionpaw were circling him, blocking off any way of escape. "What do you want?"

Baron nodded, as if Russet had asked a very good question. "You see," he began, in a deep, rumbling voice that completely horrified the ginger tom in front of him, "Where we're staying right now – it doesn't have a lot of shelter, a lot of room, a lot of _prey_. The snowstorm was a particularly unhappy time. But here, well, this is an entire territory full of food! A camp, with dens already prepared! Why would we go back to the city, a life of scrounging, when there's a land of such prosperity here? The cats currently trying to hold it – weakened from a long battle. I think this is the perfect place to make our now home."

Russet couldn't breathe. "You're going to take over ShadowClan?"

Baron nodded and unsheathed his claws, examining them idly. "And if the other Clans have something to say about it, well, we'll have a word with them too."

_No_. Russet had only wanted to be a warrior again, but now he had brought this horror down on an already weakened ShadowClan. They would never forgive him for this. And then he had a thought – did Baron realize that RiverClan was still in the camp? Had they accounted for fighting two Clans, instead of one? He could only hope so, that way the Clan cats would still maintain the element of surprise.

Then, from behind Baron, emerged a line of cats, slowly making their way through the trees. They stretched across his view, advancing, a line of rogues. Not just a line, an _army_.

Russet took another step backward, conscious of the rogues following his every move, and then he made a break for it, tearing through the snow back to ShadowClan camp. He heard Carrionpaw yowl, and heard their paws crunch through the snow as they followed him. He ran as fast as he could, dodging trees and jumping over thickets, knowing he had a slight advantage out in the wilderness.

Russet burst into camp, yowling as loudly as he could to try and warn the others. "Rogues! Rogues! They're coming! Protect the kits, the apprentices, we don't have a lot of time!"

Everyone stopped to stare at him. Toadstar took a hesitant step forward. "What's going on?"

"The rogues," Russet breathed. "They must have followed me – they want ShadowClan's camp and territory; they're going to kill everyone."

There was another question clear on Toadstar's muzzle, but before he could ask it, the rogues burst through the camp entrance and the battle began. Russet immediately found himself grappling with a large black and white she-cat, struggling to keep her from pinning him down. He managed to flip her over and scratch down her belly, causing her to yowl in pain. Russet pushed her aside and leapt away, looking for a safe spot from which to see what was happening.

He managed to find a moment of refuge crouching behind a den, and he peered out at camp. The rogues and the Clan cats were engaged in battle, one more terrifying that the earlier battle, because right now, everyone was aiming to kill. Near the front, Eaglestar fought Carrionpaw, while Sootclaw and Toadstar were tackling Flynn. The rogues outnumbered the Clan cats, but Russet knew that they wouldn't fight to the death – once it was clear they were losing the battle, they would clear out. He also saw Pigeonpaw slipping away from the fighting, sneaking out of camp through a hole in the back wall.

At first, he couldn't see Baron. Then his eyes located the tom sitting at the top of the camp entrance, surveying the scene. Baron swung his head from side to side, and then his gaze found Russet's, and he offered the ginger tom a chilling smile.

Russet couldn't stand it. He threw himself back into the fray at the first rogue he saw, which happened to be the grey-blue she-cat that reminded him of Lilystream. Anya. She recognized him and spat in his face. "Traitor," she hissed, as they rolled back and forth on the ground, each trying to gain a good position. Eventually Russet managed to hold her down, and he wanted to lung forward and dig his fangs into her throat, but he remembered how terrible it had felt last time and paused. Her face turned into Lilystream's and for a moment of all the force went out of his limbs. Anya took full advantage and raked her claws down the soft flesh of his belly, causing him to cry out in pain.

That was it. _Kill her_, said the darkness, but he threw it aside. He didn't need its advice. He didn't need to kill her. He was strong and powerful, and so he held her down and nipped the soft flesh between her neck and her shoulder, biting down hard enough to cause immense pain, but without the danger of killing her.

Anya let out a cry. He stepped back and let her stagger to her feet. She limped, unable to move where he had bit without intense pain. "Going to keep fighting?" he asked. "If I were you, I would leave."

"You and I both know Baron will kill me if I do that," she hissed back at him. "Why don't you do us both a favour and just end it now. Otherwise I _will_ kill you."

Russet scoffed. "Not with a wound like that," he said, and then left her to stand there weakly.

Now, where was Baron? The massive reddish-brown tom was gone from the camp entrance, which meant that he had to be fighting, but Russet didn't see him anywhere. He worked his way through the battle, sliding between groups of brawling cats, until he caught sight of the tom's huge form leaning over the nursery. Sprucetail stood there, hissing at him, her kits all hidden behind her legs.

"Look," said Baron, in a deceptively calm tone. "I just want a kit. You can even pick which one. Just a kit, and we'll stop this fighting. If I had one, I could get your warriors to surrender, and no one would get hurt. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Sprucetail bared her fangs at him. "Never," she hissed.

"I could do it," volunteered Hailkit, trying to put on a brave face. He had no idea what he was signing up for, Russet was sure.

"Baron," said Russet, appearing behind him. Baron turned, looking mildly interested, his eyes cruel and calculating. Russet took a deep breath. He was willing to die to save Sootclaw. He had to be willing to do the same for ShadowClan. _Protect the weak_, he thought, looking at Hailkit. He reminded him so much of Hailstripe, lying there helplessly, a perfect target for Falconswoop. He should have protected Hailstripe.

He had to redeem himself.

"What is it, Russet?" asked Baron calmly.

"Fight me." It was a demand. Russet stared at him down. "You can't win your battles by hurting kits. Win them fair and square."

"Oh, Russet," said Baron, almost sadly. "You were so promising. But when will you learn – nothing is fair?"

And then the rogue leader leapt toward him, paws outstretched. Russet easily batted them away, and then the two were circling each other. A rogue jumped forward to help, but Baron signalled him away. This was a battle between the two of them. It reminded Russet of all of his training sessions with the rogues, except this was real, and it meant something. It was the difference between being a warrior and being just another coward.

Baron was waiting for him to make a move, and so Russet leapt, aiming to knock the large tom off-balance. But Baron simply re-adjusted, bending so Russet ran straight into his shoulders. Russet tumbled backward, took a deep breath, and pulled himself back up, barely managing to dodge to the side as Baron came barrelling toward him.

The next time, he wasn't so lucky.

Baron ran into him and the two fell to the ground, rolling over each other until Baron emerged on top. Russet immediately dug his back claws into the tom's underbelly, but Baron barely flinched, instead striking him over the head with a huge paw. Russet's vision blurred for a moment and his ears rang, but he gritted his teeth and got through the pain, doing his best to throw Baron off of him.

"You can't beat me," said Baron, leaning down close so he was whispering into Russet's ear. "I'm stronger than you."

"Maybe physically," spat Russet, "but not in spirit." The darkness coursed through him, tempting him, begging to be used. _We'll help you_, it said, calling to him. _We can make you strong enough to defeat Baron_. But Russet resisted. He had to do it himself.

He had to believe.

He struggled to escape from Baron's crushing weight, but the huge tom simply struck him over the head again. Russet cried out in pain, and then summoned all of his strength. He prepared himself to strike, his muscles coiled, putting as much power in them as he could. Then he pushed forward, displacing Baron, and rolling to the side.

But he barely got a chance to breathe before Baron was on him again, this time crushing down on his back. Russet's face was shoved into the dirt and he fought to maintain an air supply. "No" said Baron again. "I'm stronger in every way." Then the tom's teeth were digging into the back of his neck and Russet felt terrible pain overtake him.

This was it.

Blackness clouded his vision.

He waited for Baron to strike again, but then he felt the weight being dragged off of him. Russet rolled over, vision swimming, trying to figure out what was happening. The pain in his neck was killing him, but were was Baron? He managed to focus his eyes long enough to see the reddish-brown tom being subdued by three cats – Larchstripe, a huge golden tom, and a small brown one. Together, they managed to overcome Baron's strength and push him to the ground.

And there, behind them, Pigeonpaw. He had brought ThunderClan.

"I weakened him for you," called out Russet. Oh, he was hilarious when he was delirious. He blinked, trying to keep paying attention, but everything felt strange now, his body going numb.

Baron laughed, but it was a weakened sound. "Can you really kill me, Alder?" he asked.

The skinny brown tom reared back. "This is for everything, Baron," he said quietly. "For my father, for my band, for putting ThunderClan in danger. And, most of all, this is for_ me_." And with that, he slashed across Baron's throat. Blood spilled out over the ground, sinking into the dirt and staining the snow red. Baron let out a terrible gurgle, and then lay still.

Baron was dead. Russet felt like laughing, but he couldn't move or speak. His eyes began to roll up in his head. What was happening? Was he... dying? He felt the darkness in him move, pulling down, as if it was trying to drag him through the ground. He was aware of his fur becoming hot and sticky, aware of his mind starting to sink.

But Baron was dead.

There was movement above him as blurred, darkened figures leaned into his field of view. "Russet," said one, angry, scared. "Russet!"

"He's gone," said another. Sootclaw?

Then, Toadstar, quietly murmuring. "From this day forward, you will be known as Russetheart. StarClan honours your bravery and your sacrifice and we welcome you as a full member... of RiverClan."

He pictured Lilystream's face in front of him. _We're warriors now_, he thought, and then everything was black.

**X x x**

Light shone down on the altar. The earth sounded like it was going to crack apart. Dawnpaw stood beside Shredtail and Worm, stomach turning with anxiety. Any second now, Sootclaw was going to come down through the portal, and she would ascend and pass him. Their eyes would meet and then he would be gone.

Forever.

But before anyone could come down, there was noise from behind them. "There they are!"

Dawnpaw whipped around, closely followed by Shredtail and Worm, to see three cats advancing toward them, one of them she instantly recognized as Hawkfrost. Then there was a tom with black fur and a brown underbelly, and a she-cat with short silver tabby fur.

"Shredtail," greeted Hawkfrost curtly. "I should have known it was you. How else would they have learned about WindClan? You've been aiding Dawnpaw this whole time – of course you would come to the altar."

"I'm sick of this, Hawkfrost," said Shredtail calmly. "I don't know what drives you to do this, to be evil, to continue fighting against StarClan. It's tiring and it's pointless."

Hawkfrost's lip curled up. "Pointless? Not now, not when we're so close to finally having our revenge on the Clans."

"We've tried this before," Shredtail hissed. "It didn't work last time, with the Three. And none of the times before that, before _we_ were even here... the Dark Forest has never managed to defeat the Clans."

"This time is different," mewed Hawkfrost. "This time, StarClan is playing right into our paws. It's not too late to join us again, Shredtail. Just give up. Give us Dawnpaw. Thistleclaw will be so please when I return with her."

Shredtail shook his head. "I'm done with this, Hawkfrost. I just want some peace."

As they were talking, Worm crept closer to Dawnpaw. "When Sootclaw comes down, you have to run," he whispered, in the calmest voice she had ever heard him use. "You can't stop for anything."

Dawnpaw frowned. "What's going to happen?"

Worm grinned. "We're going to fight."

The noise became louder, and then there was another one was well, and they all looked up to the sky, which had opened even wider, allowing the light to beam down, illuminating the dark stone below. And then, coming down through it, was the figure of a cat. Dawnpaw's heart raced and even though she wanted to nothing more than to look away and pretend this wasn't happening, she couldn't tear her eyes away. It had to be Sootclaw.

Sootclaw was dead.

And then the cat came into view, and she paused. What? Huge build, ginger fur – that wasn't Sootclaw. It was Russetpaw.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Shredtail frowned. "I don't know. The darkness must have got into Russet somehow. When he died – it dragged him down here. But it doesn't matter, because you have to _go_."

Dawnpaw took one last look at him. "Thank you," she said, and then she ran toward the altar, preparing to leap on top of it.

"Stop her!" hissed Hawkfrost. "Antpelt, Frostjaw, go!" The two cats with him leapt forward, knocking into Dawnpaw's flank and pushing her to the ground. She let out a cry as she tumbled against the hard dirt.

Then Shredtail was there, pulling them off of her, somehow managing to fight both at once. Dawnpaw wriggled free and leapt onto the altar, allowing the light to bathe her. She stared at the scene. Shredtail held back the two warriors while Hawkfrost circled Worm, looking at him with a pitying expression. Then she felt a tingling in her paws and she began to rise through the air, floating above them all.

This was it. She was going home. Russetpaw was moving down toward her, and soon they would cross, and then her soul would return to the world of the living.

Down on the ground, Hawkfrost lunged at Worm and grabbed his tiny neck in his powerful jaws, thrashing the silver-brown tabby back and forth. Worm let out a cry and then was still, blood dripping from his neck.

Dawnpaw couldn't believe it. Was Worm dead? He had spent so much time helping her and Shredtail, and then to be killed... just like that... it was horrifying.

"Worm!" yowled Shredtail, in genuine concern, rushing over to his fallen friend. He pressed his nose into the tom's fur. "Worm," he mewed again. "We called you that for so long, but your soul is released now. Find peace... _Darkstripe_."

And Dawnpaw realized she was sad, that as much as she had pitied Worm – or Darkstripe, as was his warrior name – that she had come to rely on him and appreciate the help he had provided. But as sad as she was, she also felt happy, happy that he was no longer stuck in this darkness. There had been nothing else for him.

Then Dawnpaw watched as Shredtail bowled into Hawkfrost, knocking him over. Finally, she got to see Shredtail in action: pure, unrestricted malice and power as he fought Hawkfrost, his true, terrible strength shining through. Hawkfrost was no match for him, and it wasn't long before Shredtail slashed through the brown tabby's throat, leaving his body once more dead and lifeless.

And it was so easy.

Shredtail was so strong and powerful and he had held it all in to help her, and she would always owe him for that.

She continued to rise up until she was level with Russetpaw, who was looking at her in confusion. "What's going on?" he asked, angry, worried.

"I'm so sorry," said Dawnpaw. "This is the Dark Forest."

His eyes widened. "What?"

"What happened, Russetpaw?" she asked.

"Russet_heart_," he corrected her. "I... I don't know. I helped Sootclaw, I took the darkness from him, and I was _fine_... and then I was killed and now somehow I'm down here."

Dawnpaw could only look at him in sympathy. She felt bad for him, but a guilty part of her was so ridiculously happy that it wasn't Sootclaw standing across from her now. Russetheart look sad and lost, terrified of what was to come. He hadn't expected this – but to take the darkness from Sootclaw, that was brave.

She closed her eyes and probed through the dark. _Shredtail?_

_ Yes?_ He answered. He was far below her now, staring up into the darkness. Antpelt and Frostjaw had scattered.

_Help Russetheart_, she instructed him. _Help him get to StarClan_. _They won't let him in, not at first, but you have to convince them_.

The brown tabby let out a sigh. _Dawnpaw..._

_Please_, she begged.

He relented. _Alright_.

Dawnpaw opened her eyes. She was now above Russetheart, still floating up. "It's going to be alright," she called down to him. "Shredtail will help you."

He looked up at her, terrified, such a large warrior made to look so small. Dawnpaw had no idea what had happened up there, why Russetheart had returned from exile to save Sootclaw. He couldn't have known this would happen, couldn't have known the true extent of the sacrifice that he made. Dawnpaw knew she couldn't tell Sootclaw either. He would blame himself for this. She had to keep it a secret – pretend she had been able to rise up when WindClan was defeated.

And then she reached the sky. The light enfolded up her, rushing into it, until everything was white and she could barely breathe. There was an intense pain, and her body was gone, and then it was just her soul, rushing through the air, _flying_, until it landed, with a thump, right back where it belonged.

And with a gasp, Dawnpaw awoke.

**XX XX XX XX**

**A/N:** My emotionnsss! Writing Russet's death was probably the saddest I have ever been - he was so close to everything he had ever wanted :( And Darkstripe's death and moment of revelation was pretty bittersweet too, and ahh. Ahh. AAAAHHH.

Sorry for putting this up late, I had a busy week, but the next chapter is up and ready to go, and I'm like 500 words off from finishing the epilogue.

One more chapter. What more could possibly go wrong right? Right?

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	35. Chapter Thirty-Three

**CHAPTER**** THIRTY-THREE**

It seemed like they had just gotten back to camp when Pigeonpaw came dashing in, yelling something about rogues attacking ShadowClan. Thickfur was too tired and injured to care, and so he stood around camp idly as the still healthy and vigorous ThunderClan warriors prepared to aid their newfound allies. It was heartwarming to see all the Clans coming together in order to fight the darkness. Thickfur was aware of the sentiment, but he was too tired and worried about Dawnpaw to find to time to be happy. Sootclaw had said that Dawnpaw was fine, that they had gotten back in contact... but just because she was alright didn't necessarily mean that she was going to come back anytime soon. He had rushed over to the den as soon as the battle was over, daring to hope that she might have woken up with the defeat of WindClan, only to see her tiny, frail frame stretched out as usual in the moss nest, the same sad, shallow breaths and trembling eyelids.

And now Pigeonpaw was here, corralling the warriors, and Thickfur sat back. He watched as they all gathered, somehow still full of energy. He should have been excited or anxious, knowing that these rogues that had been threatening ThunderClan all this time were finally able to be defeated. But it didn't matter. If it couldn't bring Dawnpaw back, then it didn't matter. Everything he had done in the past few moons had been to protect her, even if she hated him, because she was his responsibility and by StarClan, he was going to prove himself as a mentor. But if she never came back... all of his effort was futile. Wasted.

He had left the medicine cat's den to allow Kitetail and Alder some privacy. Alder was going off to fight the rogues, finally ready to actually do something about the danger he had directed onto the Clans. The loner prince had become good friends with the medicine cat, much to Thickfur's annoyance, but he wouldn't begrudge them a moment of peace to speak. Out in the centre of camp, Slatestar was getting ready to lead a small force over to ShadowClan. Beck was there, as were Larchstripe, Beechclaw, and Owlfeather. Add Alder to that and you had six cats. _Only six cats_, he thought with a pang. ThunderClan was losing so many warriors – Nettleclaw had died, Elmheart had left, and Grasscloud had moved to the nursery, a move which angered Thickfur to no end. _We need more_, he thought, thinking of Dawnpaw. She would be close to her warrior name by now.

Thickfur nodded goodbye to them as they left, watching them rush up out the quarry and into the forest, ready to do battle once more. He hoped they would be alright – the rogues would be dangerous enemies with no qualms about killing, and this time, there was no Sootclaw to save them. He thought about what the grey warrior had said. _She understood you just wanted the best for her_, he had said. _She's really brave_.

Wherever she was, she must be brave. Dawnpaw was a victim, but she was also a fighter. And if she came out of this, he would have to respect her as a hero. Treat her like an adult. Not like a kit. Not anymore.

His paws led him over to the nursery entrance, where Auburnfur watched as Breezekit and Mothkit played. They were getting big now, and would soon be apprentices. Limekit was curled up in some scraps of moss beside them, dozing lightly, and Grasscloud was at the back, working on fixing up her own nest. Seeing her made Thickfur sick. How could his father had moved on? Flamefur would be in StarClan, waiting for him, and right now she was being betrayed.

He turned away and nearly bumped into Cherrytail, who had been coming from behind the nursery. Her eyes narrowed but her voice was cautiously neutral. "Hello, Thickfur," she mewed.

They hadn't spoken since their argument, which felt like forever ago. Thickfur was angry at her, but he also hated being distant from his family. Nettleclaw's words still hung in his head and they stabbed at his heart. He thought of Beechclaw and Auburnfur, of the love they shared and the way they loved their kits... why couldn't his life have been like that? Instead, it had been one of constant abandonment and betrayal.

"Hi," he said carefully. "How are you?" He should have tried to keep updated more, but with the threat of the rogues and WindClan, of the snowstorm and the darkness, he had been very distracted. All he could think of were Cherrytail's hurtful words and the way he had lashed out at her in order to hurt her, the same way Kitetail had lashed out at him. "How's Limekit handling all of this?"

"He's fine," she mewed. "He doesn't really understand what's going on, not with the darkness or anything." It was a weird subject. None of them could deny that the Dark Forest had held sway over WindClan, that the supernatural was involved, that Sootclaw's power had saved them... yet these were all very unfamiliar topics that set them all on edge. If the darkness could take over an entire Clan, what couldn't it do?

"Good," said Thickfur, and it was all he could think of to say.

"Nursery's getting crowded now," said Cherrytail, flicking her tail in Grasscloud's direction. The tortoiseshell she-cat seemed completely absorbed in her task.

Thickfur narrowed his eyes, and this time he couldn't prevent a little bit of annoyance from showing through. "It just doesn't seem right, her and Slatestar."

Cherrytail glared at him. "It's been thirty moons since Flamefur died," she mewed. "Our father doesn't need your permission to do what makes him happy." With that she walked by him, back into the nursery, cooing something to Limekit as she did so.

The stocky grey tabby let out a huge sigh. It seemed he was forever destined to be at odds with his sister, with his family. A heavy sense came over him, the same that had followed their last argument. Everything thought he was cranky, too hard on others, too cynical and volatile. Maybe he was. Maybe he was just going to always be angry, because everything was always stacking up against him.

So he went to the one place in ThunderClan camp he knew he would find peace – the medicine cat's den. He remembered the snowstorm, the easiness with which he had told Dawnpaw about his life when he knew she couldn't hear. Maybe he could only talk when nobody was listening – he could pretend they were, but there was no danger of a negative opinion or of seeming weak.

Thickfur slipped in. Kitetail wasn't there – had he gone to ShadowClan as well? Thickfur hadn't been paying attention. He settled into the moss nest beside Dawnpaw's, his heart breaking as he watching her the weak fluttering of her chest, her fur so dull and pallid. She seemed so fragile, as if touching her would break her. The grey tom sighed. "Maybe Slatestar's right," he told her. "Maybe it is time to let go. If I can't be a mentor to you maybe I can be a better one to someone else."

_Maybe_.

"At least you're alright," he offered, though his words were cheerless. "I hope you can't hear me – I wouldn't want you telling Sootclaw I said all this. I'm supposed to be tough, after all. But I've started thinking I'm not tough, I'm just mad. All the time." Talking wasn't easy for him but this managed to relieve the pressure on his chest and Thickfur found he could breathe again.

"Anyway, I probably shouldn't stay. If I'm going to let go, I have to do it. I just want you to know, I only wanted the best for you. I was proud to be your mentor." The words hung in the still air. He watched her breathe, his amber eyes filled with the same sadness that was welling up in his chest. He had to let go. Let go of Dawnpaw, let go of Flamefur, just... let go.

He was about to get up when Dawnpaw's breathing pattern changed, _increased_. Her breaths deepened, and then, without warning, she let out a gasp and her eyes fluttered open.

Thickfur's heart nearly stopped.

She looked around wildly before finally sighting him, a look of confusion coming over her face, though it was subdued by the pre-existing look of happiness and excitement and relief and... _sadness_?

Why sadness?

"You're awake," he said, stating the obvious, but he couldn't think of anything smarter to say. His heart was thudding in his chest and he could barely breathe. Dawnpaw was right in front of him, _awake_.

Her mouth moved but no words came out. The ginger apprentice tried to get her paws but stumbled, obviously not realizing how atrophied her muscles had become. Thickfur immediately moved forward to support her and she seemed surprised by his presence.

And then, finally, a noise. "Umm," she said.

_Umm_.

Their eyes met. Thickfur was expecting to see the same amber eyes that had closed on him, those moons ago in the snow, but they were different now. They were harder, sharper, smarter, _older_. This was not some young apprentice in front of him, but an adult, a _warrior_, in a deceptively frail body.

He wasn't even sure if calling her Dawnpaw was appropriate anymore.

Thickfur could only stare in wonder, his heart beating, at the creature in front of him, leaning on him for strength. She took in a deep breath, and he felt her whole body shake against him, and then: "Where's Kitetail?"

And he knew he shouldn't be upset that she had asked for someone else, knew that finding the medicine cat was probably important for her health, but he still couldn't help it. _I'm your mentor_, he thought. _I've been here for you this whole time._ _Kitetail put you in danger with the loners._

But he had to let it go. Thickfur didn't know what he had been expecting – for Dawnpaw to wake up, immediately renounce her hatred of him, and shower him in appreciation? It wasn't realistic. So he didn't say anything about it, just let himself have the quiet pride that was knowing that his training had helped her survive.

"I'm right here." Kitetail had arrived back at the den. He hadn't gone to ShadowClan after all, he had just been out around camp. "Dawnpaw..." His eyes were so happy and it was obvious the brown tabby was overjoyed to see the apprentice awake once more.

He rushed over and helped her to her paws. Thickfur moved back, realizing that maybe his presence wasn't as welcome as he had anticipated. "I'm glad you're alright," he mewed gruffly. "Sootclaw had been trying to keep me updated, but... I was worried."

Kitetail looked back and forth between them, and then understanding dawned on him, obvious on his face. "Sootclaw's mind was linked with..." he began, and then nodded. "Oh. That explains why you were so friendly to me, Dawnpaw," he said, attempting a smile.

Dawnpaw frowned. "You know about the... link?"

Both of the toms hesitated. It was Kitetail who spoke. "Sootclaw told everyone," he explained. "He told us about his power, how he could save us from WindClan."

She looked back and forth between them. "It worked," she said, and it was more of a statement than a question.

Thickfur nodded. "Yeah."

"WindClan is saved?" she mewed. "And ShadowClan?"

Again, Kitetail and Thickfur exchanged glances. "WindClan is saved," Kitetail said, "but ShadowClan is currently under attack from rogues. Slatestar is there right now, fighting. I didn't go, I didn't want to leave you alone while... while they could be in the territory."

Dawnpaw frowned once more. "I've been here... the whole time?" Talking sounded as though it was still difficult for her.

Thickfur nodded. "You've been unconscious. We kept you in Kitetail's den, keeping you as healthy as we could."

She blinked. "You didn't give up on me."

Thickfur hesitated. Slatestar had been close to it, ordering Thickfur to take on a new apprentice, and the others had given up as well, saying there was no more use in hoping for a miracle. But the grey tom had never given up, and he wanted her to know just how seriously he took his role as her mentor. And yet... she was so different from the apprentice he had known. Despite her frail body, she seemed so much stronger. "Never," was all he said, but he felt weird about it, because it was one thing to show a little bit of kindness to his apprentice and something else entirely to open himself up before this new, adult version of Dawnpaw who was watching him with sharp eyes.

She nodded. It was all Thickfur got, but it felt like appreciation, and he felt wind rushing out of him. He hadn't given up. Dawnpaw was back, and she would be alright. All along he wanted a chance to prove himself as a mentor, but things had changed now. Dawnpaw was _different_. And he didn't know how to feel.

"I'm going to give Dawnpaw a check-up," said Kitetail. "And bring her to Slatestar when he gets back. Thickfur, if you could give us some privacy?"

He couldn't say no to the medicine cat. He took one last, wondering glance at Dawnpaw, who was still struggling to stand, and then Thickfur walked out of the den, wondering how he had let his life become so confusing.

**x x x**

Dawnpaw watched Thickfur's retreating frame. The grey tom was as tough as always, but his usual coldness had been absent, replaced by something else that eluded her. Wonder? Happiness? He kept his emotions hidden behind his amber eyes, and the only hint he had given her... _Never_. The intensity of his gaze and the ferocity of his words had surprised her. He had always been distant, cool, but in that moment he was letting loose all of his feelings in the way he knew how. If only she had known how to understand them before the moment was over.

She felt an uneasiness in her stomach. Despite their differences, Thickfur had been her mentor and she had come to appreciate him regardless of the roughness he could sometimes show. He had made her angry, embarrassed, desperate to prove herself – but he had never hurt her, and had always relented before he could go too far. Dawnpaw knew he had wanted to make her tough, wanted to shape her into a good warrior, and without him she wasn't sure how she could have survived in the Dark Forest.

But now, something had changed in their relationship. Something about the way he talked to her and looked at her. Dawnpaw was still an apprentice, but she felt much older now, and she wondered if Thickfur had seen that, if maybe he thought of them as _equals_. That made her uncomfortable. How was she supposed to navigate that? Her previous relationship had been a constant. Even if Thickfur wasn't kind, he was often _right_, and was a rock and a guide in her training. But if they were equals, if she was an adult... that would be gone. She would no longer have that protection from him. She would have to see him as a warrior, as a Clanmate, not as her mentor.

And that confused her.

But she couldn't think about that now. Kitetail was busying himself by checking over her, though he found nothing but limp, atrophied muscle. Dawnpaw knew how weak she was, knew that she needed help to stand and walk, and that her body had shrivelled up while she had been away from it. Her mind was a little unsteady too, and she knew she would have to manually open up the mind-link to talk to Sootclaw. She was desperate to hear from him, but she had to talk to Kitetail first.

"You're going to need a lot of physical therapy," said Kitetail. He sounded guarded, a little off, nothing like the friendly albeit shy tom she had known before.

"I know," Dawnpaw mewed. "Is everything alright?"

The brown tabby hesitated and then finally let out a sigh. "It's just.. the mind-link..."

Of course. Sootclaw had told everyone about his power, and knowing that he shared it with Dawnpaw might not be the easiest thing for Kitetail to register. Dawnpaw pressed her tail against his flank, trying to seem comforting. "It can't be easy," she said.

Kitetail looked away. "I spent a long time trying to be close to Sootclaw. And then when we finally did, I came to ThunderClan. It's not fair, but... you didn't have to do _anything_, and you get to be close to him." His words weren't mean, not supposed to lash out at her, but it was evident how much this was hurting the tom

"I'm sorry," said Dawnpaw quietly. "Look, StarClan joined our minds in order to save Sootclaw's life. It was the only way. But... I never wanted anything but for him to love and accept you. Watching him deal with Falconswoop, with the pressure to be like his father, it was painful. If you love Sootclaw, and I know you do, you should be glad you never had to feel his struggle." Dawnpaw had never put that thought into words before, but what she and Sootclaw had been through together... it had been immensely powerful and painful.

Kitetail was silent at that, looking thoughtfully into the distance. "Do you love Sootclaw?" he asked suddenly.

Dawnpaw was taken aback. She loved Sootclaw, loved him wholly and utterly, would move mountains to have him in her mind, but she got the sense that that wasn't what Kitetail was asking. He wanted to know if she loved him romantically, and that wasn't a question she was ready to answer. Realistically, they could never be together. Her thoughts and emotions had got so caught up in the intensity of their mind-link that sometimes it felt like she did, but at other times, she wasn't sure.

"You can't know someone that fully without loving them," she answered at last. Sootclaw was the prime example, but she remembered having her mind linked with Shredtail's. Even though she had disliked him and much of what he had done, feeling the way he felt about himself... it had been impossible not to care for him. And now she realized what Shredtail had meant, that she could be StarClan's champion. She had spent so long trying to get Sootclaw to understand the power of love – as cheesy at it sounded – and now she had to believe in herself too, because it was her strongest asset. Dawnpaw met Kitetail's gaze, now unafraid. "I do love him, Kitetail, but in the same sense that you do."

Not romantically.

Kitetail hesitated and finally nodded. "Alright," he said. "I'm going to go, umm, get Galepaw to find some herbs that I need. For your condition." He seemed nervous, and not just about her.

And, with that said, she went into her mind and found the part where Sootclaw hummed against her, and opened it up, allowing Sootclaw to pour into her and envelop her fully, and she revelled in the warmth and familiarity of his touch. He responded eagerly, happiness soaring through him, but she felt something else at the back of his mind, the darkness, locked away, drumming on the bars of its prison cell.

_Hello, you_, said Sootclaw. He sounded exhausted.

_Hello,_ said Dawnpaw quietly. She felt her body trembling. In that moment there was only the two of them in the whole wide world.

_You're back now_, he guessed, relieved.

_Yeah_, Dawnpaw told him. She thought about Russetheart, about all the guilt that would put on Sootclaw, and so she did the unthinkable. She lied. _When you saved WindClan and took the darkness away, I was able to come back._

Sootclaw's purr rumbled through her mind. _I'm so glad_, he said. _I was useless without you._

_Don't say that_, she chided him. _You saved WindClan, and ShadowClan too_. _Are you still fighting the rogues?_

_ No_, he said. _The ThunderClan patrol should be back in your camp soon. Alder managed to kill Baron and end it, but..._

She felt him shudder in pain, and knew why. Loving people hurt. And Dawnpaw had to learn to turn that pain into her strength. _But?_

Sootclaw sighed. _A lot of cats died. Seedfur died fighting WindClan, and the rogues killed Milkyfur and Russet – it's a long story – as well. Sprucetail was maimed defending her kits, so she'll retire to be an elder. RiverClan also suffered the loss of Goldenfur._

Dawnpaw was silent a moment in order to grieve their losses. Goldenfur had been a young warrior, full of promise. Seedfur had been Kitetail's former mentor, giving her all to train him even though it would never work. And Milkyfur had been Eaglestar's mate and Pigeonpaw's mother... she could only imagine the devastating effect it would have on the leader and on their kits.

_Honestly, a lot more would have been killed if Pigeonpaw hadn't run to get ThunderClan_, Sootclaw told her.

_It was Pigeonpaw?_ Dawnpaw asked, surprised. Last she had heard, the young apprentice was a major pain in Sootclaw's behind.

He chuckled. _I've learned a lot, including how to be a better mentor to him. He's going to turn out alright._

_I never doubted you_, Dawnpaw told him, and they purred against each other for awhile, taking comfort in each others presence.

Then Sootclaw spoke, more quietly than before. _I thought I might die, Dawnpaw. I was ready to do it. I wasn't even scared, I just wanted to be selfless_.

_You were_, said Dawnpaw. _You're the bravest of us all._

He laughed bleakly. _I think that title is yours now_.

She said nothing, only smiled. It was so nice to be back with him, and it made her feel like no matter what the Dark Forest threw at them next, she could handle it. _They_ could handle it. Together.

_It's not over, you know_, she told him.

Sootclaw sighed. _I know. But we'll make it through_.

Their conversation was broken off by a rush of activity in the centre of ThunderClan camp, and suddenly Kitetail was back in the den, ready to help her limp out. _Slatestar's back_, she told Sootclaw, and pushed their connection to the back of her mind so she could focus on what was happening. Leaning on the medicine cat, Dawnpaw made it out into the middle of camp, and was immediately swallowed up by activity.

There were cats everywhere. Slatestar was rushing in, followed by a bloody and wounded patrol, though they all walked with their heads held high. Two of them, Dawnpaw didn't even recognize. Meanwhile, cats were coming out of their dens, staring at her in shock. When Slatestar saw her, his eyes went wide, and he rushed over to her.

"Dawnpaw!" he exclaimed in incredulity. "You're – you're awake."

Once, she saw Slatestar as a powerful, unstoppable force. Now she saw him for what he was – a tom, strong and broad, trying his best to lead a Clan even in this troubled time. He was still powerful, but he wasn't unstoppable.

She nodded. "I have a lot to say to the Clan," she mewed. "I wasn't just asleep, Slatestar. I was in the Dark Forest."

His eyes widened, and then he nodded. "I'm calling a Clan meeting now, to discuss everything that has happened. You'll have a chance to share your story – but for now, are you alright?"

Dawnpaw nodded again. "I'm still weak, but... I'm alright. Better than every, really," she mewed wryly.

Slatestar looked at her in wonder, and then bounded away, leaping on top of the Highledge in order to call a meeting. His voice echoed out over the quarry and the ThunderClan cats, who had all been milling around in anticipation of a meeting, fell into line in front of him. To Dawnpaw's surprised, Larchstripe sat at the base of the ledge beside him, and there was no sign of Nettleclaw.

And more importantly, there was no sign of Elmheart.

"Where's Elmheart?" she whispered, leaning over to Kitetail. Her heart was dreading the possibility that he had gone to fight the rogues and had never come back.

The medicine cat paused. "He is... he left. Um. While you were gone, some loners came to take refuge in ThunderClan. To make a long story short, some rogues came to find them, the Clans just fought them off, but Elmheart left with one of them. Chantelle."

Dawnpaw couldn't believe it. Elmheart had loved ThunderClan and had been ready to dedicate his whole life to it. As an apprentice, he hadn't wanted anything more. "I don't understand," she said. "Why would he go?"

Kitetail sighed. "Nettleclaw died of greencough, and you were in a coma. Elmheart... he said there was nothing left here for him. And Slatestar just... just let him go." There was sadness written on the medicine cat's face, especially at the mention of greencough, and it reminded Dawnpaw of the frail brown apprentice who had first come to ThunderClan and that she had instantly befriended.

Slatestar began to talk and Dawnpaw refocused her attention on him. "As you are all aware, Baron learned of the battle with WindClan and the resulting weakness of ShadowClan. The rogues launched an attack to take over ShadowClan territory, however RiverClan was there and we managed to get there in time as well. We fought them off, and Alder and Beck killed Baron, ending the threat he posed to the Clans."

He paused and looked down at a thin brown tom who was sitting by himself. He looked tired, and there were claw marks all over his body, but he was holding his chin up high. Beside him sat a large golden tom, head lowered.

"Because of their bravery and their service to the Clan while they were here, I have consulted with my senior warriors, and we would like to extend an offer to Alder and Beck: to join ThunderClan as full warriors." Slatestar's words hung in the area. There was no vocal opposition to the idea, though Dawnpaw did see Beechclaw scowl. Everyone was quiet, just watching the two loners.

The golden tom spoke first: "Thank you, Slatestar, however... now that my duty to Alder has been completed, I would like to go to ShadowClan and offer my services as a warrior. They suffered many losses and they need strong cats."

Slatestar looked surprised, but he nodded. The other cat, presumably Alder, exchanged glances with Kitetail before nodding. "I would be humbled to accept your offer, Slatestar," he mewed, and beside her, Dawnpaw felt Kitetail purr.

Slatestar then began the warrior ceremony. "I, Slatestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon this tom. Though he is not Clanborn, he has shown bravery and loyalty, as well as the desire to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend him to you as a warrior in his turn. Alder, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your own life?"

The whole Clan was watching Alder, who was trembling slightly. But he kept his chin raised and his voice was unwavering when he answered: "I do."

Slatestar continued. "Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Alder, from this moment on, you will be known as Alderthorn. StarClan honours your commitment, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan."

And then he was Alderthorn, and cats were chanting his name. Kitetail padded over to congratulate him, and Dawnpaw watched, her happiness mixed with the knowledge that the Dark Forest was still plotting away.

Slatestar now gazed down at her. "Dawnpaw has awakened, and she has a lot to tell us. Dawnpaw, please step forward."

Kitetail was over by Alderthorn now, but Galepaw and Auburnfur stepped forward to help support Dawnpaw as she waddled to the front of the crowd. Once she got there, she leaned against Auburnfur, appreciative of the she-cat's help.

She stared out over all of them, knowing that her body was weak but her mind was strong, and that her words would be convincing. She had returned from the Dark Forest in order to protect and care for her Clan, but in order to do that, she first had to gain their respect.

"When I was unconscious, my body was here, but... my mind was not," she began. "It was dragged down to the Dark Forest. I was a threat to them because I share the same power as Sootclaw. Our minds are linked together, and this gives the two of us the ability to fight against whatever the Dark Forest throws at us. They are plotting an attack down there – Falconswoop and WindClan were just the first steps of many, and we have to be ready.

"I managed to escape, but that doesn't mean it's over. They are planning something, and they will not rest until we have been defeated. We have to be strong, to stand together. Sootclaw and I may have this power, but... everyone is important. Every cat counts.

"It may be hard to believe me, but... you have all seen what Sootclaw can do. And you have seen my go into an inexplicable coma. And you have seen what the darkness does to cats. I wish I could tell you what was going to happen next. I can't. But I can tell you this:

"We have to stand together."

.

Afterwards, she and Thickfur padded out through the forest. Dawnpaw leaned on her mentor as they walked, and though progress was slow, she enjoyed being in the woods once again. The smells were familiar, and despite the blanket of snow, she could tell how alive and healthy the forest was. It was nothing like the misty, dark forest she had lived in for the past few moons.

Sootclaw was there, humming in her mind, but for right now she was content just to enjoy the silence and the quiet sound of Thickfur's breathing. The tom barely spoke, just helped her forward. For once, Dawnpaw wasn't worried about impressing her mentor. All she cared about was being home and at peace, and seeing the sun. The world around her was wonderful and beautiful, and she would do anything to protect it from the Dark Forest.

Anything.

The two of them made it to the top of one of the hills looking over the lake, where they sat down on top of a pair of rocks sticking up from the snow. Dawnpaw recognized the slope as the one where she had slipped and fallen, and she stretched herself out over her rock, staring down at it and the sparkling, beautiful lake below.

"Remember when I fell?" she said suddenly. "You were so angry."

He grunted. "You were careless. If you had been hurt..."

Dawnpaw rolled over to face him. He was still sitting straight, his eyes fixed on the lake, his body as hard and unfriendly as usual. But they were sitting here not as apprentice and mentor, but as friends, as _equals_.

"I never thanked you," she mewed quietly. "Without your training, I would not have been tough enough to survive down in the Dark Forest."

Thickfur just shrugged, still looking at the lake, and Dawnpaw felt a surge of frustration. Was he never going to talk to her? "You could answer," she pointed out sharply.

Now Thickfur looked at her, his face impassive. "I didn't do it for your thanks," he said. "The fact that you survived is thanks enough."

The anger snapped in her again. "Are you going to be rude to me forever?"

To her surprise, he didn't get angry or cold. Instead, he let out a sigh and relented, softening his posture as he turned to look at her, his amber eyes tired. It was a Thickfur she had never seen before, a Thickfur that was just exhausted. "I'm sorry," he said, words that she had also never heard from him. "You've changed a lot and I'm not sure where it puts us."

Dawnpaw agreed. "It feels like we can't go back to being mentor and apprentice," she mewed quietly, still surprised by his apology. "To tell you the truth, I don't feel like an apprentice anymore."

"No," said Thickfur softly. "You don't seem like one either."

"So... are we friends?" she volunteered. A younger Dawnpaw would have been horrified at the thought of being friends with Thickfur, her worst nightmare, her most hated enemy. Thickfur had been a big, square obstacle in her path to happiness.

He scoffed. "Don't get ahead of yourself," he reprimanded her, but there was no real unkindness in his voice.

Before Dawnpaw could think of a reply, everything changed all at once.

There was a terrible sound, a loud groaning sound that seemed to get even louder as it went on, splitting her ears and making her want to cry out. In the sky she saw a great, large silvery beast, like one of the Twoleg monsters but so much larger and with two large wings. It seemed to be falling out of the sky's blue expanse, plunging downward over the lake.

She watched, horrified, as the beast fell toward the lake. It was going so fast, there was no way it could pull up in time. It was just a silvery blur in the sky, and then it crashed, crashed across the lake and in RiverClan territory so fast that she didn't know what was happened. Beside her, Thickfur was just as enraptured, and she could feel the tension running through his body.

Flames erupted, a great billowing cloud of fire and smoke that rose up into the sky. They ravaged the territory, reaching high up into the sky, a terrible sight that Dawnpaw couldn't even begin to fathom. All she could hope was that the RiverClan patrol had stayed in ShadowClan camp a little bit longer.

The flames burned and roared, reflecting on the glittering ice of the lake and turning it from white into a powerful, fiery red, as if the whole lake had turned to blood.

Then, from deep in her mind, rose the most powerful, terrible, painful cry that she had ever heard and felt in her whole life. It broke her heart, it broke her mind, left her wracked with sobs, left her feeling a pain that she had never felt before, a sense of anguish and loss and complete despair that made her want to curl up and die. It was from Sootclaw, Sootclaw who was staring out over the same scene as she was, Sootclaw who was broken beyond imagining.

And from his cry came a flurry of names she didn't recognize – _Thornkit. Icekit. Cricketkit_.

And then they culminated in one that she did: _Lilystream._

**XX XX XX XX**

**A/N:** Here it is! Sorry for the late update, I've been very busy. I have to buckle down this weekend to finish the NaNo (which will be the first couple chapters of the next book) and then I will be posting the epilogue + author's note for this story! Thanks to everyone who went on this journey with me. I'll talk about more stuff in the author's note, and I'll do review replies there too. For now, I just wanted to get this chapter posted!

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	36. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

Thistleclaw stared down at the muddy pool in front of him, his lip curled into a sneer. It was a pitiful thing, a puddle held in by a frame of cobbled together rocks and bramble, and yet it was the most important water in all of the Dark Forest. In it, he saw the lake, the ice turning a glossy red as it reflected the burning fires on RiverClan territory. He had not arranged for that to happen – had no way to control the flight of Twoleg creatures, after all – but it had been prophesied.

_Blood will spill blood, and the lake will run red_.

Hawkfrost had been particularly attached to that, thinking that the prophecy that had foretold his death would be used against the Clans that had rejected and destroyed him. But Hawkfrost had been arrogant and weak, and his death – well, his second death – had not been unexpected. He had been so foolish, so blind, unable to see that he had no part in Thistleclaw's master plan. He had failed to ensure Dawnpaw's death, and now there was no more use for him.

The grey and white tom beckoned over his new second-in-command, Mapleshade. He had always liked the she-cat, liked her thirst for blood and her vicious attitude. The dappled ginger she-cat padded over and sat down at the pool beside her, patiently waiting for Thistleclaw to speak.

"Are your warriors ready?" he asked. "Dawnpaw opened the portal with her return, and now we can flood through, storming the Clans."

Mapleshade hesitated. "StarClan is blocking it, Thistleclaw," she reported.

His sneer turned into a sour frown. StarClan was always going to be in their way, though it was sometimes a blessing in disguise – for everything StarClan did to try and stop the Dark Forest, they only made them stronger. Still... "Blocking it?" he asked. "How? The fabric between our world and theirs is starting to tear. Cats are already returning, those lost in the grey between life and death. Grainstar was the first, but there will be more."

"It is frustrating," Mapleshade agreed. "But StarClan can only hold us back for so long. And every drop of power they exert to keep us at bay is a drop of power we can use to make our warriors stronger when StarClan does eventually falter."

It was true. This was a losing battle for StarClan. "Then why even hold out at all?" Thistleclaw scoffed. "They're too scared to accept their fate. And I imagine..." Here he frowned again. "I imagine they want to give the Clans time to try and prepare – as if the Clans could stop us."

Mapleshade snarled. "I wish they would stop being cowards. My warriors are restless."

"I know, I know," said Thistleclaw soothingly, still staring down into the pool. "And we will have our revenge soon enough. For now, any preparation the Clans attempt will be offset by WindClan's weakness and RiverClan's destruction. We just have to have patience. There's nothing the Clans can do to stop us."

He turned around so he was facing the legion of warriors behind him. They stood tall and proud, eyes glittering with malice, ready to fight and to _kill_ – and they would. They would get their revenge. And even if the worst happened, and the Clans somehow fought back and pushed them back down to the Dark Forest, it would only be a matter of time before they were back.

As long as StarClan continued to meddle in the lives of the Clans, they would lend power to those waiting down below, and the cycle would continue to repeat itself. Except every time, the Dark Forest would grow stronger, until they reached a point such as right now – the point where they could easily obliterate the Clans. StarClan would be powerless against them.

They would usher in an era of endless night.

**x x x**

It was midnight by the time they reached the top of the mountain. It had been a hard climb, tiring especially for Chantelle, who was used to living in the flatness of the city. She wasn't sure if Elmheart was having the same problem. The well-muscled tom had mostly kept silent during the walk, and she could see the nervousness and apprehension on his face.

They were surrounded by a group of Tribe cats who had found them along the way and had offered to escort them back to the Tribe. The cats, who introduced themselves as preycatchers, were friendly enough. They left Elmheart alone, though they continued to shoot nervous glances at Chantelle, and especially at her belly.

Her pregnancy was one of the first things they had brought up to the Tribe cats, to make sure she would be safe on the climb up up the mountain. Chantelle couldn't wait to be a mother – it was all that she had ever wanted. Once, she had wanted to bear Alder's kits, but that dream had since passed. Now, being with Elmheart was making her happier than she could ever remember.

She stumbled over a stone as they made their way up the ledge, and Elmheart was immediately there to help stabilize her. His scent flooded her, wrapping around her and steadying her. The warmth of his golden-brown body was a comfort, and his green eyes were filled with complete love and devotion. Elmheart had left his Clan for her, and Chantelle knew there was nothing more she could ask of him.

"Careful," he murmured, pressing against her, strengthening her. Ever since leaving ThunderClan, he had been more solemn than usual, but his feelings had come out in bits and pieces. He had told her about his parents, about his father, and how terrible he felt to have not seen him before death. He talked about feeling alone. _You saved me, Chantelle_, he had said, and it was the most romantic thing she had ever heard.

"I love you," she told him quietly, licking his cheek.

He purred, pressing his tail against her flank to guide her up the cliff. "I love you too," he said, and the earnest honesty in his voice made her fall in love all over again. They had saved each other, had healed each other from the terrible scars of unrequited love, and now they were going to start a new life together.

There was nothing more that she could ask for.

"Are we almost there?" Elmheart asked one of the preycatchers, a dark silvery-grey she-cat called Moon.

Moon, or Moon That Eclipses the Sun, looked back toward them and nodded. "It's just at the top of this cliff," she mewed, casting a nervous glance at Chantelle's belly. "We will be there momentarily. The first climb is always the hardest, don't worry."

The Tribe cats, their bodies slicked in mud, seemed so strong and so tough. Chantelle didn't know how she would become one of them, but she was glad that she would get a chance to accomplish something by herself, and not always be trapped in Alder's shadow.

They scrambled up the last bit of rock and suddenly found themselves at the mouth of a large cave. Pointed stones hung from the top, water dripping off of them and onto the cold, grey stone below. Inside, the cave was dark, but Chantelle could make out the shapes of cats, milling around. A few turned their attention to the approaching patrol. The air inside seemed cold, and a shiver passed through her, a sense of foreboding. How long until she could feel like this was home?

"Follow us," said Moon. "It's alright. No need to be frightened."

But the gaping mouth of the cave was different than anything Chantelle had seen before. She had just been adjusting to life in the forest when now, she was put here. Part of her wanted to run back to the city, but there was no place for her there, not anymore, not without constantly being reminded of Alder. The Tribe was the only place that she and Elmheart could exist without his influence; where they could truly be together.

Somewhere the thoughts of Alder and Dawnpaw couldn't find them.

Elmheart noticed her hesitation, because he pressed himself against her to steady her, drawing his tongue over her cheek. "Everything's going to be alright," he promised, and Chantelle wished that she could believe it.

Because there was something she hadn't told him.

The black she-cat was holding a terrible secret inside of her, weighing her down – she had _lied_ to the tom that meant everything to her, that she was preparing to spend the rest of her life with. She had to lie, there had been no other way – and it would all work out in the end.

Besides, Elmheart would never know, and she would never tell him. His love was what she needed more than anything, and she leaned into his warmth, her tail pressing against his flank. She knew that their love had been quick and sudden, but she felt it fervently, burning through her, how he had been there for her, willing to fall for her, not distant and cold like Alder.

She saw feelings in Elmheart's eyes that she had never seen in Alder's, and Chantelle just couldn't stand hurting herself anymore. This was _now_ and this was _real_.

Moon and the rest of the Tribe cats led them into the cave. Elmheart went first after them, and Chantelle followed him, shivering uncomfortably once more as drops of water fell from the rocks and onto her fur. It was colder than she had expected, the cats cast in hues of grey and brown, and for a moment the she-cat was terrified. Terrified that everything was wrong and this place would never be right for her, but she couldn't ask Elmheart to leave, not again.

They walked through the main cave and into a smaller one attached to it, where moonlight filtered in from a hole in the roof and the ground was covered in pointed stones. An old grey tom stood there, looking up as they entered. His eyes were milky and unfocused, but he seemed to be able to pinpoint their location from the sound of their pawsteps. Beside the old tom stood two younger toms, their pelts washed clean of the mud – one a handsome grey and white, and the other a fiery ginger.

"Who have you brought me, Moon?" asked the old tom, recognizing her by smell.

"Outsiders who wish to join us," she mewed, dipping her head reverently. She turned toward them and flicked her tail. "This is Stoneteller, our leader, who can communicate with our ancestors."

"Hello, Stoneteller," said Elmheart, voice confident and unwavering while still respectful. "We have travelled from the Clans in order to join you. We no longer feel at home in the Clans and are looking for a new home, one where we can work hard and contribute, and a place to... to raise our kits."

Stoneteller was silent for a moment. When he spoke, he chose his words carefully. "We do not get many asking to join us, but you may take shelter here. Spend time with us and we will see whether or not you have the makings of a Tribe cat. Then I will decide. For now, Squall and Blaze can show you around." He motioned at the two younger toms beside him, who padded forward.

Moon nodded and padded away, going back to join the rest of the Tribe in the main cave. The grey and white tom padded over to Chantelle and Elmheart, a friendly smile on his face. "I'm Squall that Darkens the Sky," he said, introducing himself.

"I'm Blaze," said the ginger tom, glossing over his lack of title as tough it were nothing. "Clan cats, eh? It's not an easy transition, but..." He trailed off, padding past them and beckoning them forward. "Anyway, welcome!"

And there in the moonlight, surrounded by friendly faces and beside Elmheart, Chantelle felt alright again. She could do this. They would make it through.

And just because she wasn't pregnant yet didn't mean she would never be. How long could it take?

Everything would be fine.

**XX XX XX XX**

**A/N:** Terrible epilogue but you get the gist of it! Thistle wants to wreck the Clans, Elmheart and Chantelle join the Tribe (except, gasp, she lied about her pregnancy!). Squall and Blaze play pretty big into the next book as well. Gonna update next with a big author's note and then probably get started on Book 3 (which I will talk about in the A/N).

Sorry for the late update, been really busy with exams.

For the last time in KotS, thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)


	37. Author's Note

_Kitetail heard a noise at the entrance of his den and turned, expecting Alderthorn to be there. Instead, he saw Limekit, the small white tom's fur fluffed up against the cold. Limekit met his eyes silently and Kitetail felt a churning in his belly._

_ That was strange._

_ And then, from up above and all around him, the terrible, terrible noise, and when he darted outside, he saw the silvery wings of the Twoleg beast as it flew through the air, a trail of smoke follow behind it._

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

Wow. I never imagined I'd be sitting here, almost three years later, putting the final touches on this story. It's been a very long journey of days of frantic writing and months of inactivity, but I did it, and I owe it to everyone who has stuck with the story, constantly reviewing and encouraging me! Your support has been so instrumental to my success and I can't express my appreciation enough!

_Knight of the Shadows_ pretty much turned out like I planned it, though Grainstar was a spur-of-the-moment write-in. I really like how Fogpaw ended up, and how Dawnpaw's growth went as well! Writing her now is so much different than it was at the beginning, though I barely even notice the difference because it just feels so natural.

Also, in Chapter 1 of PotS, Elm reminds Dawn that she was always the one kit poking her nose where it didn't belong. In Chapter 29 of this book, Nettle reminds Thickfur of the same thing! Does it mean anything? Have I been planning this for four years? Probably not! But Thickfur has a messy past and it is coming out in the next book, I am so excited.

I guess it's time to talk about the next book, _Queen of the Thunder. _I have the prologue and first chapter done, but am hesitant to upload it because I don't know how often I will be able to update. I will get it done though, I promise, even if it takes another three years (here's hoping that it doesn't). Whenever I get uninspired or don't feel like writing, I just picture the final scene of QotT in my head and think about how I can't wait to write it. The last chapter and then the epilogue, aahhh, it's literally the most exciting thing ever.

For QotT, I wish I could say I was lowering the number of POVs (well, there will be one less) but I will be trying to get it to flow better. Less of "Dawnpaw stuck in the Dark Forest" over and over again! We will get a POV for Lime as well as for Elmheart (I know, I'm so excited!).

I'm not really sure what else to put here! Umm... I currently have 299 reviews, so next one will make it 300 and that would be pretty cool, I guess? I can't complain, I do still have a pretty good number of reviews considering that it took me three years to write this! Just hoping people want to stick around and keep reading the next one, so please do drop me a note (even if you don't want to review the other chapters) if you liked this book and are excited to read the next one!

I guess I have to finish QotT, I have so many other ideas to write but I can't start another story until it's done (and let's be honest, I should never start stories again. Starting is easy, finishing is hard.) I will probably dedicate my next NaNoWriMos (camps in April/July and then the real one in Nov) to finish QotT. It will probably be around the same length as this - more chapters but I'll try to keep them a bit shorter!

Thanks for everything guys!

- PV :)


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